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The Yanktonai is carrying me to the others of his tribe' 



THE 


LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


BY 

RUTH EVERETT BECK 


ILLUSTRATED BY 

ANGEL DeCORA 

AND 

LONE STAR 



NEW YORK 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
1914 


yz.i 

■J53Z0V 

L 


Copyright, 1914 

BY 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
Published October, 1914 



NOV 23 1914 


©CI.A388515 


DEDICATED TO 
MY FATHER, MY MOTHER, 
AND THE OMAHA AMERINDS 


February , 1914. 


RUTH EVERETT BECK 




» 




























FULL PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS 


“ The Yanktonai is carrying me to the others of his 


tribe ” Frontispiece / 

PAGE 

“So I raise my hands and I say in voice that begs, 

‘Wakondah’” 34 t 

“Down in great heaps come the buffaloes” 70 

“He strokes my hair” 140 ^ 


4 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


CHAPTER I 


AM Tun - in - gi - na. 
My name is long for 
I am a child of the 
Ma-has.* My name 
means something 
about the new moon. 
My father is called 
Village Maker and my 
mother is called Me-tun- 
in-gi. Her name means 
something about the new 
moon. My father says 
she is the handsomest 
squaw in our tribe. I 
have seen many women 
of the Poncas. I have seen some women of the 
Yanktonais, but my mother is more beautiful than 
any of the others. She is strong, too. She has a 



Metuningi 


Omahas. 


2 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


good head. Even the braves stop to listen to her 
words when in the council she wishes to talk. We 
have seven brave men who meet and talk with the 
Wa-kon-dah, the Great Spirit, before our people go 
on the hunt or on the war trail. But they often call 
my mother to speak before them. One day a little 
friend told me my mother was a woman of mystery. 
I do not know. But she has a good head. 

When the buffaloes are all gone then the red men 
will die unless we learn another way to live. The red 
men always kill enough buffalo for food and leave 
the great herds that more young ones may grow. 
But the white men come in great numbers. They 
kill many buffalo that spoil on the ground. They eat 
only a little. Soon the herds will all be gone. So 
my father says I must go to the stone lodge where the 
white men teach their way to live and eat. 

“I wish to stay in the tipi. I am a red child. I 
do not wish to be white,” I say. 

“Thou wilt not be white. Thou wilt only learn 
their ways.” 

“But I have much to learn here, my father, my 
da' -di-ha, I must learn to go for wood; I must learn 
to make the red and yellow and black dye for the 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


3 


quill work; I must learn to make moccasins and 
dresses; I must learn to tan robes; I must learn to 
care for the garden and to cook beans and buffalo 
fat and corn.” 

“Thou wilt learn to make a thing they call candy. 
It is sweet like honey.” 

“I like better the um' -bag-the” I say to my father, 
for all Indian children of my tribe like the um' -bag-the. 
You must boil corn and beans in one cooking pot 
for a long time, then set it out to cool and get hard 
in the night. In the morning it tastes very good if 
you slice it. I know I like um'-bag-the better than 
candy which is like honey. 

But because all red children do what the father and 
mother think best, I must go to the stone lodge to 
learn the way of the white man. My father and 
mother talk much and go to the earth-house where our 
people go to make medicine. Then they tell me I am 
not to go to the stone house of the people whose skin 
is of the color of the inner layer of the corn husk, till 
a winter has passed by. I am of very glad heart 
when they say this to me, for I want to be with my 
people when they go on the summer buffalo hunt. 
If my father tells it straight, there will soon be no 


4 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


buffaloes to hunt, and I do not want to give up our 
nice life. I do not want to live in a dark, stone house 
and learn the ways of the pale faces. I run out all 
day long. I am so happy today that my face is like 
the sunshine as I walk beside my mother who is going 
with many other women to gather food. Many good 
roots are found to eat during this moon-in-which- 
nothing-happens. The next moon is the one-in- 
which-they-plant.* So we gather the bulbs of the 
lily to boil without meat. After the cold winter 
moons when we have cooked much buffalo meat with 
dried corn and beans, the lily bulbs are very good to 
the mouth. The milk weeds have not sent us stems 
long enough to cook yet, but I shall watch that I be 
the first to bring them into camp when the Wa-kon- 
dah makes them grow tall enough. We are all happy. 
We all chew the bark of the slippery elm. 

The rain has gone back into the sky which has a 
wonderful blue color today. The sun shines. I 
wander away to a pleasant spot on the hillside for I 
wish to get the round plant t that springs up after a 
heavy rain. It looks like tripe and we like to eat it. 

* May. 

f Mushroom — “ looks-like- tripe.” 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


5 


We are all hungry for new food. I do not know how 
far my moccasins take me but when I look for my 
mother I do not see her! I walk till my moccasins 
are tired. Then I think I will go to the top of the 
highest hill so that I may see the circle of tipis. My 



moccasins get so tired I think I will rest them. I 
am hungry and water comes into my eyes. I lie 
down on the earth and because I am tired I am sleep 
hungry. A big snake crawls past me but I lie quiet 
and he goes away. The white and gray clouds chase 
each other across the sky like boys playing a game. 
I forget all about the food that looks like tripe and 
my eyes close. I go to many places in my dreams and 
in one very bad dream I find a big Yanktonai-Sioux 


6 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


brave carrying me away in his arms. Over my mouth 
is tied a piece of soft deerskin. It is dirty and I try 
to bite it and spit it out but the Yanktonai brave only 
laughs at me. I try to waken but find it is true ! The 
Yanktonai is carrying me to the others of his tribe. 
Then I know that unless some of my people miss me 
and come to find me, I shall be carried away to their 
camping grounds and shall never see my father and 
mother again. 

Maybe they will kill me. I weep, but they only 
laugh and speak in a tongue I do not know. Some- 
times they say a word that sounds like our talk but 
I do not know what they say. The one who holds me 
on his saddle has a good face. He laughs much. 
One is stupid like the owl. I know he will not hurt 
me unless the third one, who has a face like an angry 
winter sky, tells him to. Then he will do it for he has 
no head of his own. To myself I call the brave who 
found me “Kage*,” which means friend. If they 
try to kill me I will put my arms around his neck as 
I do about the neck of my father. 

We ride fast toward where-cold-comes-from. As 
the sun goes to sleep I grow chilly so Kage puts his 

* Kah'-gay. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


7 


blanket around both of us. I do not hate him yet. 
He has only stolen me. He has not killed any of my 
sisters nor my father and mother. And I know they 
will not kill me. Nobody carries a child on the back 
of a pony only to kill it at the end of the journey. 
It is too much trouble. So I begin to wonder what 
they are going to do with me. I try to look back so I 
may run home on the same trail if I get away. Then 
they all laugh and make signs that say I have a good 
head, but they cover my eyes with a robe so I cannot 
see. At this I laugh to myself for if they were to set 
me down in the midst of the lonesome prairie at 
night time I would look at the sky and find the Star- 
That-Moves-Not. Then I would go away from that 
star, towards my people. But the Yanktonais think 
nobody but a man child has head enough to do that! 

So when we sleep that night I see the Yanktonais 
all three sleep. They think we are all too far away 
from my people for them ever to catch us. When 
they all sleep I try to hold my eyes open. I think 
I shall steal away. Kage has taken all the ropes that 
bound me from my hands and feet. As they made 
camp they let me run and play. They know I fear 
the wild animals that run about in the time of new 


8 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


growing. So I hold my eyes wide open. Kage sees 
me and he laughs. Then I know his thoughts. He 
thinks I want to run away, but he thinks, too, that 
I am so little I shall be sleep hungry. 

It is no longer raining. The many stars come out 
in the big, wide sky. Unless you have slept out on 
the prairie you do not know how big and wide the 
sky is. I see the white path across it. I know it is 
white because the spirits of all my people who have 
left us are passing that way. I wonder if I shall soon 
have my moccasins in that path. If I try to get away 
a hungry wolf may catch me. Then I shiver for 
there will be none of my people to keep a fire kindled 
on my grave for the first four nights after I die. My 
spirit will not know where to go. And while I am 
thinking about it the little star that looks in my eye 
winks and winks. ... I close my eyes! . . . Sud- 
denly I hear the ponies moving and open my eyes and 
see Kage eating jerked meat from his pack. Then I 
know that I have been asleep all night; that it is 
morning again, and that by the time the sun has 
again gone to bed I shall be many moccasins away 
from my people. So I weep again; the rain is in my 
eyes and a pain in my throat. Kage says words in the 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


9 


Yanktonai tongue but they are good words. They 
are like the voice of a squaw. Then he looks ashamed 
as the others smile. So he takes me up roughly but 
I know he has a good heart for me. He will not harm 
me unless he feels that I am too much trouble to carry. 
So I wonder if he will leave me to be eaten by wolves 
or if he will beat me to death with his war club before 
they go on. Then I grow cold as the thought is in my 
head so I put my arms tighter about his neck. He 
laughs a low little laugh and says words in voice like a 
young brave speaking to a little dog that he loves. 
So I smile in his face. I am not afraid of him so long 
as I can keep the other two from laughing. 

When we eat again that night the one with the owl 
face goes to the top of a hill and lies down, looking, 
looking all about for signs that talk. He must know 
if unfriendly Indians are near. If he sees any, his 
robe or his hands will talk to his two friends very fast. 
They build a fire. Then Kage goes out with his bow 
and arrow to shoot some birds. It is growing chilly 
so I put my hands out towards the blaze of the oak 
twigs. As I stand so with my little beaded moccasins 
near to the fire I smell scorching leather and I look 
down. Then I remember how my mother has just 


10 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


finished the work on them in the winter moons, and 
again the rain comes to my eyes. Then Angry Face 
makes one ugly grunt like a 
bear in the time of new grow- 
ing things, like a bear that is 
wakened from the long winter 
sleep so that he is sleep hungry 
and belly hungry. Then 
numpa, the fear, comes to my 
heart and I make the child’s 
war cry. He raises a club to 
strike me. His eyes are cruel. 
There is the kill in them. But 
he is heavy like the fat buffalo. I am a thin little 
Ma-ha weasel. I move quickly to one side. The 
club strikes the fire and makes the sparks and 
ashes fly out all about like fire flies on the tree in the 
wet lands on a summer night. Then my heart whis- 
pers, “ Swift moccasins!” So I run. But tho’ I run 
fast he gains on me. I know he will catch me so I 
wait till he is almost upon me, then I again jump to 
one side. He is like an angry buffalo bull with an 
arrow in his side. He has charged and missed. 
Again he charges and I gather all my little strength 



Angry Face 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


11 


to keep running and dodging till Kage comes back, 
for I know he will not let Angry Face kill me. I do 
not want to walk on the four days journey alone! 
Bad spirits may get me. Then I do not want to die. 
The Wa-kon-dah put me here that I might one day 
be a big squaw; that a strong brave might one day 
play a love call on his flute for me — for me and for no 
other maid. Then we would have our own tipi in the 
moons of summer and a lodge for the winter moons. 
The Wa-kon-dah made me that in our lodge should 
be many children to be happy in the beautiful world; 
to love the big blue sky when the sun walks; to know 
the mighty mystery when the water falls from the 
skies and the Thunder Bird speaks; to know all the 
birds, all the animals, all the creeping things of earth; 
to dream in the pleasant mystery of the dusk, — 
‘Hhe-face-hidden-in-the-darkness,” we call it. 

So the fight is in my heart to stay here. The Wa- 
kon-dah is not ready for me to go to the land of 
ghosts. It is not time. Then I stop still. I raise my 
hand. I call to him as I have heard my father do. 
And as I call the Thunder Voices roar across the sky 
and Angry Face stops a moment. We have run from 
the fire. I catch the breath that has gone from me 


12 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


but I let my eyes rest on him all the while. He is 
Yanktonai. It may be he does not fear the Thunder 
Voice. It speaks to the Ma-has but I do not know 
whether the ears of the Yanktonai know that tongue. 

Again he starts but again I jump to one side. I 
am like the game of bowl and counters — the game of 
i'-u-tin* He cannot guess where I will be. His face 
grows more like the angry sky. 

Even now I can feel that heavy hand on my long 
black braids of hair. As he pulls me to the earth I 
think that my braids have not been freshly braided 
for two sun walks. And I know that he will kill me 
so I close my eyes and have no tears; no pain in the 
throat. I will go as the braves go. But the club 
does not fall and my hair is no longer pulled. I hear 
a soft moccasin, then a quick angry voice. It says 
no words. It makes only one quick sound as a bear 
growls. So I open my eyes. 

It is Kage! I do not clap my hands. It is not the 
custom of my people. I sit up. I look. It is good 
to my eyes to see the fight. My only fear is that 
Kage will not win! But I smile when I think of how 
I have tired the old fat buffalo by making him run! 


* e'-oo-tin. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


13 


Kage is tall and thin and fresh with muscles like 
those of a wild animal. — Yes, he beats Angry Face. 
I wonder why he does not kill him! Then I know it 
is not to be so. I am only a little Ma-ha captive. 
A Yanktonai will not kill another for a little captive 
maid. But Kage gives a cry that says “Ahai! — 
Touch not the little captive again. She is mine.” 
Kage is young. I can tell that. He has never had 
a lodge. I think he will have a lodge soon, for when 
a young brave is good to a little child I have heard the 
old women say he will soon have a lodge. 

Then we all go back to the camp fire. We cook 
the birds Kage has killed. Each bird is put on a 
little stick and held over the coals. Kage laughs and 
lets me hold one. Angry Face lets his eyes talk to his 
moccasins. He eats his bird almost raw, then walks 
to the hill top to be the eyes for us while the Owl 
eats. When the Owl comes his eyes ask questions. 
He has seen the fight. But he says no word. The 
red men use few lip words. They read much from 
signs. They speak with silence. So I look into the 
face of Kage. His eyes speak the look I give to my 
little dog. I know he will take good care of me. I 
would not let any one kill my little dog. 


14 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


As the-f ace-hidden-in-darkness comes on we all 
camp together. Kage puts me inside his robe, close 
to him, for the night is cold. But I saw the look in 
his eyes in the firelight and I know what he fears. 
He fears I will try to escape. He fears that Angry 
Face will catch me. 

The firelight grows softer and softer; a big silence 
filled with noises comes over us and is all about us. 
I hear the frogs croak in the marshlands; hear the 
clamor of the great flocks of geese disturbed by some 
hungry beast; once a coyote howls because he has 
failed to find the nest of shu , the prairie chicken. 
He is hungry. I like the voice of the coyote. It 
sounds big and long and ripples all over the great 
stillness of night time on the prairie like a rock thrown 
into big, still water. Yet I fear the howl of the coyote, 
so I creep closer to Kage. He is like a squaw. He 
holds me closer to his side. I put my little brown 
hand on the face of Kage and I know he is pleased as 
I am pleased when my little dog licks my hand. 
And when I think of my little dog I weep softly and 
Kage strokes my hair. I think it is sad that Kage is 
of the Yanktonai. I wish he were a Ma-ha. 

In the deep night my eyes open. All the stars have 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


15 


gone to sleep. The sky is dark like the hair of our 
people. I put out my hand to take hold of the dark- 
ness. It is so black I think it is a robe. It feels wet. 
But it is not the rain wet. It is different. I try to 
pretend that I am too warm. I do not try to steal 
away. I roll over and push the robe angrily from me. 
I know it will waken Kage. I hope to get outside 
the robe. Then when he again gets sleep hungry I 
will steal away. 

Kage puts his hand out too. I wonder if he knows 
it is in my head to escape in the mist? We call it the- 
smoke-on-the-earth. But he lets me lie outside the 
robe. 

A cold like the chill of the dead from the swamp 
land creeps through my bones. I am too cold to be 
sleep hungry again. Kage will sleep before I do. 
It is warm inside his robe. Sometimes I want to 
crawl back but when I think of that I know that 
every day I get further and further from my people; 
that it will be harder to find my way back; that to- 
night they cannot follow me, and that because 
Angry Face is tired he sleeps as the bear sleeps in 
the winter moons. 

It is time for me to escape. This I know. But it 


16 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


is lonesome and the darkness is full of fears. I do 
not like to leave Kage now. I listen to his breathing. 
Yes, he is asleep. I could move away quietly and es- 
cape. But I am so cold I cannot move fast. I can- 
not see where my moccasins will take me. I have 
no dried meat nor parched corn with me. I may 
starve. My little bones may have so little meat on 
them in a few sun walks that even a starved coyote 
would not eat me. My buckskin suit would be too 
much trouble to tear open for the bag of bones be- 
neath! So I grow sad for myself, the little Ma-ha 
girl so far away from her people! The pain comes in 
my neck but I make it go away. It makes me weak. 
So I get a strong heart and stand up softly, softly — 
for I must not awaken Kage. I wish I might see his 
good face once more. I want to pat it and to ask Kage 
to go back with me to my people and be a Ma-ha. 
But I know that would be bird chatter to say that. 
I keep only the thought words. I try to walk. At 
first I am cold and stiff but when I find I am really 
away from them my moccasins are glad to go fast; 
one after another, faster and faster. 


CHAPTER II 



must not eat all our buffalo 
meat in one day or we shall 
be hungry for many days. 


UT after a while I 
think it is better to 
| go slowly. It will 
make me last longer. 
My father says we 


So I walk more slowly, but I am still cold. I almost 
wish I were lying warm and sleepy beside Kage, in- 
side his warm buffalo robe. I think much about his 
good face. After my moccasins have eaten many 
trails I see that the sun is fighting to get up. But 
the mist, the-smoke-on-the-earth holds him back. 
Then I know the mist is my friend. It is hiding me 
from the Yanktonais. The mist helps me because the 
Thunder Beings have told it to help me. I am a 
Ma-ha. My father’s prayer smoke and the prayer 
smoke of On-pon* the Elk, have had an answer! My 
heart is quiet. 


* Ong'-pong. 

17 


18 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


But my little belly is empty. It rattles against my 
ribs. My mouth is hungry for the um'-bag-the . In 
my mind I see the plant that looks like tripe in the 
cooking pot. I can almost smell the stew of the ten- 
der duck cooked with it. At last I sit down. I am 
so tired. My moccasins say, “No more for a time.” 

But the cold goes through me, through my bones. 
Again I weep but I weep softly for I do not know 
where I am. It may be that I have not gone far. 
It may be that they will catch me. Yet my head tells 
me that they are just now opening their eyes. I 
stop to think of how surprised Kage will be when he 
wakens and sees only his dream of me, a little Ma-ha 
girl in his eyes! Then I think of the bad look in the 
eyes of Angry Face. I wonder if Kage will think he 
has stolen me and fight him for it. — No; when the 
sun shines Kage will look for signs. He will not find 
any! The mist has been almost like rain. It has 
washed away my light moccasin tracks. They can- 
not follow me. But Kage can see by the marks at 
his side that Angry Face has not taken me. 

I wish the sun would smile out of the sky to get me 
warm, but if it does, they may see me. Again I stand 
and try to walk to get warm. The sun shines enough 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


19 


so I can see a few moccasin steps in front of me. I 
find a big hole. It is big enough for me to hide in but 
what is inside? I hear strange little whining noises. 
Baby wolves! If Mother Wolf is near I would almost 
rather take my chances with Angry Face! — No; if 
she has food she will be kind to me. Only man kills 
when he does not need food. 

What is that sound I hear? The little wolves hear 
it, too, for they stop their whining as their mother 
has told them to do before she left. (I know now she 
is gone for food or she would have stood bristling 
at the mouth of the hole at the sound I hear). 

It is the war cry of the feet of ponies! I lie down 
flat in the black hole. Through the mist comes the 
war song of the feet of the ponies. My eyes go hunt- 
ing. The sound comes nearer. Through the mist, 
the smoke-of-the-earth, I see three great ponies with 
giant riders. I think of myself as one of the little 
ones of the prairies. They call them the ga-ja-zhe. 
They lead the people astray. I am leading the 
Yanktonais astray. They do not see me. They come 
closer and closer. They do not ride fast. The ponies 
cannot see the gopher holes. They might step in 
and break their legs. I draw back into the shadow 


20 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


but as they pass so close I almost touch them I see 
that Kage’s head is bowed. I know he misses me. 
He fears the animals will get me or that I may starve. 
I fear it, too, but I am a Ma-ha. I must not run out 
to him. So slowly, slowly I see the great shapes fade 
away, away, swallowed up by my friend the mist sent 
to help me by the Thunder Beings. 



Mother Wolf 


They are gone. The pain comes in my neck 
again and I whine like the little wolves I hear in- 
side. I am so cold and so hungry I forget to fear 
the mother wolf. The water comes to my eyes and 
I crawl back to the wolf zhinga-zhingas and get 
myself warm with their soft furry little hides. At 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


21 


first they draw back but soon they tumble over 
and about me like little dogs. They lick my face 
and hands. I am so sleep hungry I lie down but 
I keep saying to myself that I must not sleep for 
Mother Wolf may come home. She will be as 
angry as a hostile Yanktonai. Yet it is so warm in 
there after the cold outside that I find myself think- 
ing I may as well trust her because I am Jca-ge to 
her children, — her zhinga-zhingas — as to let hunger 
and cold kill me. 

She comes home. I have slept. I do not have to 
open my eyes to know that the yellow eyes are 
shining on me. I can feel her hot breath on my 
face. I can hear the little ones jumping and pawing 
about her to get their milk. They paw me and lick 
me. I feel her sniff me. By that time the little ones 
have pawed and licked me so much that I have the 
smell of a wolf. But I think I shall keep on sleep- 
ing. My moccasins are still tired and my bones ache. 
I smell fresh meat as she drops something on one 
side of the hole near me. Then she throws herself 
down and the little ones fight for places to get their 
milk. I sleep again. 

After a time I hear soft movements. She sniffs 


22 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


me again. This time she licks me. My hair stands 
stiff as the quills of the little hedgehog. Maybe she 
will eat me! She is big and strong! But I smell too 
much like the cubs. She goes out. Then I open my 
eyes. The little ones are all full of belly. They 
sleep. I reach out and take the dirty scraps of raw 
rabbit flesh that still cling to the bones in the comer. 
They are better than the um'-bag-the to my mouth! 
Then I get up and look out of the mouth of the cave. 
It is sun high. It is warm outside. The smoke-on- 
the-earth is gone. The sky is blue like the flower of 
the water flags. I wish to go to a hill top and lie 
down and dream in the stillness. Little grass birds 
are building their nests. I stand up and look about. 
Which way are the tipis of my people? It is a long 
way for little moccasins to eat. I must not go in 
the wrong direction. I think: The three Yanktonais 
must have ridden toward their people. They are 
riding toward where-cold-comes-from. So I must 
travel south, — “ toward-the-heat,” we say. But I 
must look for more food and find a trail which will 
give me a soft place to sleep to-night. It will be cold. 
Again I wonder if it was wise to leave Kage. But it 
is too late to wear sad looks. I must go on. The 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


23 


Thunder Beings will help me. But I hope they will 
not speak at night time. 

I find I am on the top of a high hill. The moc- 
casins of my eyes can travel far. My head tells me 
what trail to take. Far away I can see the big river. 
We call it “They-who-come-floating-down-dead.” 
Once many bodies of a strange tribe came floating 
past the tipis of the Ma-has. The water is muddy 
and looks like the Angry Face. I know my people 
are on the side of it towards where the sun goes to 
sleep and I know, too, that we have traveled to- 
ward the Star-That-Moves-Not. I cannot see the 
star now but I know the Yanktonais went toward 
it, so I shall go the other way. 

Down in the valley I see a little pool of blue 
marsh water. Many water birds are in it. They 
catch the frogs and snakes that live there. Maybe 
I should go there to get the roots that orphan boys 
eat,* but I must not leave the hill trail so long. I 
must make my moccasins travel toward the tipis 
of my people. I must find food on the hills. There 
is nothing I can kill for I have no bow and arrows, 
I have nothing to make fire with. I have not yet 


* Artichoke roots. 


24 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


learned to rub two sticks together as the older 
people do. I know that all I can find to eat is the 
roots of a plant called the nug'-the . As soon as I 
see any of it growing I shall take a stick or a sharp 
piece of stone and dig some roots. I can peel them 
with my teeth. It grows almost everywhere and 
is good from the time of new growing things till 
the cool winter moons come. In the lodges much 
of it is dried to cook then. But that does not help 
the pain in my belly now. I am so hungry. But 
my stout moccasins travel on. 

At last my eyes see trees growing. The sun has 
been creeping to the under-world and I wonder if I 
can hide in a tall tree to sleep to-night so I make my 
moccasins go faster and faster. As I come nearer 
to the trees I see a herd of antelope going down 
past them to drink so I know there is water near. 
I want some. The antelope look at me but they do 
not run away. I am only another new animal. 
They look me over curiously and come very near. 
Then they eat the tender shoots of the trees along 
the stream. I wonder where they will sleep. They 
cannot take me in as the mother wolf did. I think 
of how warm and safe I was in Kage’s arms. I 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


25 


wish for Kage. I am even lonesome for the wolf 
hole and the cubs. When I reach the tree I climb 
into the high branches. They are very thick and 
I find an old robe up there. At first I am afraid 
it may have been wrapped around the dead body 
of a Yanktonai for they place their dead in trees. 
I look below for bones before I touch it. I am 
cold with fear. If a ghost comes near me I shall 
leave the tree and cross the little stream, for a ghost 
will not cross water. I am so cold and afraid I 
jump suddenly when I hear a cry behind me in the 
tree. I forget that I am in a tree and I fall to the 
earth. 0, how it makes my hungry bones hurt! 
A deer coming on still moccasins to water runs as 
if a wildcat is on his trail. I dare not look up again. 
It may be a Yanktonai ghost. Besides, the sun 
has made the earth hot so I like to lie there. But 
as the time goes on I look up. I must see for if 
there is no ghost I shall use the robe. Then I laugh 
because I am foolish. It is the bluejay who has a 
nest there! She is angry. She thinks I will take 
the eggs from her nest. I speak her tongue. So 
I know that because I am so afraid I cannot tell 
bird talk from ghost talk. I climb back into the 


26 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


tree. I crawl out on to the limb where the blue- 
jay’s nest is. I have to hit the bird with a stick 
for she tries to bite my eyes out. But I eat all her 
eggs. She can lay more. I am very hungry. After 

that I take some of the 
pretty long fringes 
from my buckskin suit 
and tie the robe to 
some branches so I 
may lie on it and cover 
it over me. I can see 
that some one has hid- 
den in the tree while those who hunted him lost his 
trail. Then I see that he does not need the robe 
when he comes down, or it may be that they have 
shot him with an arrow and that he has fallen. — All 
I know is I have the robe. So I fall asleep. No 
dreams come to me. I rest. When the sun walks 
again I open my eyes. At first I wonder why I am 
up in a tree. Then I remember. The day is bright. 
I am glad because I can now make my moccasins go 
fast. I untie the robe and let it fall to the earth. 
Then I jump down after it. The robe is a small one 
and I think I shall carry it with me. Though I am 



THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


27 


afraid of wild animals I take off my buckskin gar- 
ment and moccasins and bathe in the little stream. 
The water is cold but I rub myself dry with some old 
dry grass that still stands; then I run around fast 
like a little wolf playing, till I am dry. I put my 
buckskin garment on once more and dragging my 
buffalo robe after me I start on the trail. From the 
tree top I saw a bunch of grass oh the prairie not 
many moccasin tracks away, and I start for that. So 
I know what to find there. I saw shu , the prairie 
chicken, rest there last night with her man-prairie 
chicken to guard the nest. So I know there will be 
eggs there. She sees me stealing up, tho’ I leave the 
hide lying by the trail and walk on soft moccasins. 
But she does not move. She thinks I may not see 
her. But I am at last upon her. She flies away with 
a whirr of her wings and a sad little cry. My heart 
is sad for her, too. But my belly is full of hunger 
pain for me, so I take some of her eggs and eat 
them. I would like to carry some with me for I 
do not like to waste time hunting for food. But 
my hands are small and it is all I can do to drag 
the small robe which is still too heavy for me. So 
I leave the eggs, and my moccasins again take up 


28 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


the trail. I feel better. I am strong again like 
a brave. My little belly is fat with good food. 

Far off on many ridges of hills I see wolves and 
coyotes trotting; a herd of antelope sniff at me from 
the other side of the stream but when I go on they 
quietly feed again. I am beginning to feel brave. 
I have walked long. The sun is sinking to the 
underworld. Nothing can harm me — when suddenly 
I see a shape crawling and crouching along the trail 
far in front of me. It has not yet seen me for it 
is stalking a young deer ahead of it. The wind 
comes from them to me. I smell them but they 
cannot smell me. It is a wild cat. If he gets his 
deer I am safe, but if he misses he will surely eat 
me. Yet there is nowhere to hide. I see no cave — 
and if I did he could crawl in after me. If I climb 
a tree he can climb it, too. It is growing chilly and 
I am glad I have dragged my heavy robe all the way. 
I shall not sleep cold — if I am alive to sleep at all. 
I go to one side of the trail so the wildcat will not 
see me. Then I see something which makes my heart 
beat fast. Ashes! They are fresh so I know some- 
body has camped there not many sun walks past. 
I look for tracks. When I find them I see two 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


29 


little marks behind each moccasin track. So I 
know it is Winnebagoes who have camped there. 
The Big Voices, our people call them. I do not 
like this. If they catch me I shall weep that I did 
not stay with Kage and grow up to be a Yank- 
tonai. The Big Voices are big of face and big of 
belly. I like better the straight, thin people like 
the Yanktonais and the Ma-has. So many trails 
lead out from the camp my little moccasins are 
very tired before I find out at last which way they 
have gone. They seem to have gone on ahead of 
me. I do not like this, yet I must follow. It is 
on the trail towards my people. 

Again I am hungry but I have no food. So I 
look about and find a few roots of the nug-the. I 
dig them with a little stick and peel them with my 
teeth. I am afraid to go to the stream for water 
for this is the time when all the animals drink. 
Then my eyes have glad looks for I find a gourd 
of water which one of the Big Voices has forgotten. 
I drink it and put the gourd in my belt. Even a 
Big Voice has been my friend, so I know my father’s 
prayer smoke is strong. 

I see two holes in the corners of the robe so I 


30 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


find a big stick with a hooked branch cut off short 
near one end. I will drag it by that. It will be 
easier. Just as I go to pick up my robe I hear a 
hiss and I raise my stick to strike. I know that 
sound. The rattlesnake has crawled into my robe 
that he may sleep warm. He has been disturbed 
so he springs at me but I jump to one side. It is 
good for me that I did this much when I got away 
from Angry Face. Then I hit the rattlesnake 
hard on the head and hurt him. But I do not kill 
him so he is very angry. Then I call to the Wa- 
kon-dah and pick up a heavy stone. I throw it 
at his head. 

Then I walk on again dragging my robe. Where 
shall I sleep? The sun has gone to the underworld 
and soon it will be very dark. I am afraid to go 
into a tree for it is now the time of the face-hidden- 
in-darkness. Some animal may be hiding there. I 
fear to sleep on the trail or to hunt a wolfs den for 
the other snake may follow me and bite me. So 
my moccasins go on and on till at last I wrap my 
robe about me and close my eyes. I sleep till again 
the sun comes up. There is no smoke near me 
and I have not been eaten by wild animals. I 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


31 


cross many streams and my moccasins go far be- 
fore I think I must eat again. Then I see a thing 
that makes me stop still and look all about for signs. 
On the far side of the next hill must be a camp for 
I see a small feather of smoke from their camp- 
fire creeping to the sky. I must hide! I must be 
careful! I look on all the ridges about me for scouts. 
But if they are there I cannot see them. They will 
be hidden in the long grass or lying behind boulders. 
I do not sit down and weep tho' it is in my heart 
to do it. Softly I creep to the top of the hill and 
look down. Up, up comes the smoke. Then I see 
a long story, so again I look all about from my 
hiding place in the tall dead grass. There are no 
people near yet the camp fire has not been killed! 
All the people of the prairies put water on the camp 
fire when they leave. If they do not the Wind 
Beings flap their blankets on it and make it blaze 
up and set the prairie on fire. Then it gallops like 
a herd of buffalos and kills all in its path. So I 
know that the ones who camped there have been 
driven away by something. Is it by their enemies 
or by wild animals? Softly I creep nearer leaving 
my robe on the ridge, hidden in the grasses. I 


32 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


look at all the signs. The fire has been left a long 
time ago. The people ran away very fast for they 
left a rabbit cooking on the coals. I take it up 
and eat the little meat that is not too badly burned. 
Then I grow very brave and happy. Here is a 
good fire. I shall put more wood upon it and make 
it flame up high. That will keep all the wild an- 
imals away. They fear the fire. I do not believe 
any more people will come. If they do I can do 
nothing. With tired moccasins I go back over the 
top of the ridge to get my robe on the other side. 
I cannot find it! I am sure I know where I left it! 
I look toward-where-the-cold-comes-from. I do 
not see the robe. I look toward-where-the-sun- 
rises. I do not see the robe. I look toward-where- 
the-sun-sets and toward-the-heat, but the robe 
is not there . 

There is much fear in my heart. Some one is 
near. Some one has taken it. I go back and stand 
still on the top of the ridge with numpa, the fear, 
in my heart. As I stand I hear a rustle in the grass 
behind me. I do not cry out. I try to think what 
the aged ones who tell tales of brave deeds around 
the winter night lodge fires would do if they stood 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


33 


here. I stand very still but I know anyone hiding 
can see me, for the fire blazes high and makes my 
shadow big like a big ghost. Then I think if a red 
man watches I will raise my hand high. He will 
know I am a friend. So I raise my hand high. 
There is no answer. So I say: “It is some wild 
animal. Why does he not eat me? ” My father 
would raise his voice and call “ Wa-kon-dah,” but 
women do not call that name. A woman prays in 
her heart. But I think out here alone I am a brave. 
I shall call the name of the Great Spirit. So I raise 
my hands as I have seen my father do and I say in 
voice that begs, “ Wa-kon-dah !” For a long time 
I stand in the same way. My hands are still raised 
to the sky. 

The cool night wind crawls about in the grass 
at my feet. My hair has come unbraided so the 
wind tosses it about and makes a strange shadow 
on the ground. Yet no man or animal comes to 
take me. — Again I hear a sound. It is like the 
sounds of making camp. Then the fear in my heart 
of men is nothing. The fear of wild animals is noth- 
ing, for I fear I am in a ghost camp! I have heard 
many tales of ghost camps! One time On-pon 


34 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


the Elk told of a hunt. He was separated from the 
tribe for he had been sent out as a runner to look 
for signs of the buffalo, to look for signs of the 
enemy, to be the eyes of the tribe. A ghost followed 
him. He could not see it. He could feel that it 
was near. At last he saw people making camp. 
So he said “ What people are these? Their dress is 
strange. I will make the sign of friendship.” So 
he raised his hand. The people did not turn their 
eyes on him. They made no sign. They put up 
the lodge poles; they tied the ponies. On-pon put 
out his hand. He felt nothing. He shot an arrow. 
It passed through a woman. She went on scraping 
a deer skin with a we'-ba-zhabe to remove the flesh. 
Then On-pon ran on swift moccasins. He felt the 
ghost behind him. It came closer. Then On-pon 
grew cold with fear. So he ran to the stream. It 
was deep. So he came back to the bank. Again 
he felt the ghost, so again he went into the water. 
This time he found a shallow ford. He crossed over. 
After that he was safe. He did not feel the ghost 
again. They will not cross water. This is the story 
On-pon told. 

So I fear a ghost has taken my robe; that I am in 



‘‘So I raise my hands and I say in voice that begs 

‘Wakondah’ ” 




























■ 










THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


35 


the midst of a ghost camp! I go on swift moc- 
casins back to the warm fire. I fear to look behind 
me. I do not want to see the ghost of the dead. 
If his body had been buried his ghost could not 
walk. I wonder if a wolf or a bear killed him and 
left his bones on the prairie? Then I hope the 
Wa-kon-dah will not let me be killed and left un- 
buried on the prairie for I do not wish my ghost to 
walk and put numpa y the fear, in the heart of a 
child alone in the great stillness after the sun has 
gone to the underworld. 

I have no robe, so I hunt in the bushes near the 
camp fire to see if the one who left it has forgotten 
a robe. But I do not find one. Then I see some- 
thing close to the spring which is near. I take it 
up. My hand shakes like the leaves of the shaking 
tree, the aspen, for I fear ghosts. Even a brave fears 
a ghost. I find my friend has left a cooking pot. It 
is filled with um'-bag-the! I do not slice it. I take 
pieces out with my fingers. I eat as a hungry dog 
eats. But my little belly is soon full. I cannot 
hold all the um'-bag-the so I think I shall save it 
till morning. Though I have much fear in my 
heart I try to sleep by the fire. The fire says strange 


36 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


words. It speaks in soft voice. It is like my mother 
and Kage. It warms me. I sleep by its warm side. 

After a time I feel cold. It is dark. The fire- 
light has almost gone to sleep. But the red embers 
are still there. From the bushes I see two bright 
moon eyes shining in the dark. The embers are 
between the bushes and me. I must make the fire 
shine bright or the animal will jump at me. So I 
take a stick and poke the coals. The flame starts 
up and the two bright spots move back into the 
bushes. But I know I must keep the fire burning 
till the sun walks again so I gather many twigs and 
keep the flame bright. 

Every time I look I see the bright spots looking 
at me. I wish the ghost would get the animal. 
I cannot see its shape. I am so sleep hungry when 
I get warm again, I wish to let rain fall from my 
eyes but I must be like a brave. 

After a long time the sun sends some red flames 
into the sky. The birds begin to twitter and sing. 
A rabbit jumps out of the bushes to get some new 
buds for food. The animal that has been waiting 
to see what kind of big rabbit I am, gives me up. 
He fears my fire so he runs after my little friend. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


37 


Now I think I shall eat the rest of the um'-bag-the 
and let my moccasins start on the trail again. So 
I go to look for the cooking pot. It stands where 
I left it. There is no food in it! Then I know I am 
followed by a ghost. All the old people say they 
like the um'-bag-the! That is why this camp was 
left. Then I think I am more brave than the man 
who made the camp fire. I have slept there all 
night. So I stand very straight and feel very brave. 

Just then the bushes rustle. The leaves speak. 
I think I shall go fast. I shall cross water. I do 
not like to have a ghost so near. He eats all the 
um'-bag-the. I think “But I have no more um'-bag- 
the !” Then I say, “I shall cross the water to clean 
my feet. My moccasins are now full of holes. They 
need to rest.” 


CHAPTER III 



1 SEIZE my gourd and cooking pot and run 
on swift moccasins. The day is pleasant. 
Why will the ghost-fear not leave me? After 
I have run for a long time I sit down and rest. 
I am going towards the big water. There is 
no small stream near. I know strong men are often 
drowned when they cross the Ni-u-ta-che but I must 
cross it. The ghost will eat all my food if I stay 
here, so I shall die of the belly famine. No, I must 
go across. But I have no canoe. If I had one of the 
skin boats I might get across in that. But there are 
rapids and whirlpools where monsters whirl around 
and around after their tails and at last suck you 
38 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


39 


down. No, I have fear in my heart that the river is 
worse than the ghost. If only I had the robe to 
cover my head so I could not hear him whistle at 
night then I might get food enough to spare so he 
would not be so restless. 

At this time my belly calls for food. It wants 
um'-bag-the but I shall give it the eggs of shu if I 
can find them. There are many tender milkweed 
stems growing in my path but I have no fire to 
cook them. If I can find another camp fire left like 
the one where I found the um'-bag-the I can cook the 
milkweed in my cooking pot, but I have not learned 
to kindle a fire. I am so little. 

Back in the camp of my people is a little pony. 
He follows me and eats grass from my hand. I lay 
my head on his side and stroke him. His heart is 
great for me. If I could get on his back now I could 
ride to the big water before sun-high, then I could 
cross it and go on, on toward my people. He would 
swim and let me swim by his side. But some other 
child rides my pony now. All my people think I 
am dead. I know my mother is wailing on the hills; 
that my father is going alone to a far place on a 
hill top. There he smokes the prayer smoke to the 


40 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


Wa-kon-dah. My father will say I am not yet 
dead. He will take a party and hunt for me. It 
may be if I climb up in a tall tree I can see on the 
far horizon a party of Ma-has hunting for me. I 
may see my little pony being led to carry me back. 
So I find a tall tree. It is so far for little torn moc- 
casins to waste time going to the big water to cross 
it that I do not wish to go just to get away from a 
wicked ghost. First I will look for my people from 
a high tree. 

By this time I love my gourd and little cooking 
pot. They are all the friends I have. I lay them 
down at the foot of the tree. I pat them softly. 
I say, “ A'-ga-geth, goodbye, for a little time. I 
shall come back. Do not be lonesome.” So I climb 
up into the tall tree. It has thick branches. Many 
birds camp there. They fly away and flutter and 
chirp. They are like an Indian camp when the 
enemy is seen. I am of a hostile tribe for I eat 
their young birds. I do not try to cook them. 
The hunger pain in my little belly is too great. 
I eat many little birds. My hands are bloody. I 
throw the bones down. 

Then I look far, far away on the great circle where 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


41 


the sky comes down to kiss the earth. I see a few 
buffaloes yonder; they graze peacefully. It is a warm 
day. The sun is shining. Sometimes the sentinel 
buffaloes sniff and toss their heads. Then they wait. 
If no danger is near they grow quiet again. I like 
to watch them. Suddenly the sentinels throw up 
their heads again. I can tell by their movements 
that the bulls snort and stamp. The whole herd 
seems to move slowly like the big waters of a lake 
when a soft wind blows. Then the leaders, the old 
big buffaloes with long hair on their chins start on 
a trot. I see fear running thro* the herd biting the 
heels of the young bulls. They follow the leaders. 
Sometimes a young bull gets frightened and tries 
to run ahead of the leaders. He finds sharp horns 
in his side so he goes back to his place. The buffalo 
people are like the human people. They have 
leaders and the young men must follow. It may 
be they have a Council of Seven to say when the 
herd shall move, as my people have. Some danger 
is behind them now. I cannot see what it is for 
they make great clouds of dust-smoke. It may 
be a prairie fire. It might be the great gray wolves. 
It is far away so I cannot smell smoke. My eye 


42 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


moccasins cannot travel far enough to tell clouds 
from smoke-and-flames, and dust-smoke. 

A light wind whistles through the branches and 
I get cold. I think the ghost whistles. How the 
hate heart gets into my little body for that ghost! 
Then a sad thought comes for him. Maybe it is 
the ghost of a little boy who was stolen by the 
enemy. Maybe he escaped but died of the belly 
famine trying to go back to his people. Yes, I 
am sad for him — but I wish he would not follow 
when I am alone. I must crawl down from this 
tree and walk till I come to the big water. I do 
not know how, but I must cross that water. Just 
as I start down the wind moans again and makes 
me cold even though the day is hot, and then what 
do I hear? Is the ghost speaking? If he is, he is 
not a Ma-ha! It is women’s voices that travel on the 
moccasins of the air to my ears! So I lie quiet and 
look out between the branches. — Yes, two women 
are stealing over the top of a hill. They are coming 
straight toward this tree. They do not belong to 
my tribe. I cannot see what this means. The 
moon-in-which-they-plant is here. I can tell by 
the signs in the sky, by the stars, by the moon. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


43 


I look to the earth. O! why did I throw the bones 
down! Then I think, “They will believe some 
animal has eaten the young birds and thrown the 
bones away.” But I know this is wren-chatter 
for they will see my moccasin tracks. They will 
see my gourd and cooking pot. They will call 
their men and take me down from the tree and I 
shall again be a prisoner! 0, why did I leave my 
two little friends alone? Because I left them alone, 
the cooking pot and the gourd have betrayed me. 

Again I look at the far away circle. Over and 
again I see a speck that rides like a horseman as he 
pauses for a little time on the highest part of a far 
hill. Then he will again go down so that my eye 
moccasins cannot follow him. The buffaloes are 
still running. Something is behind them. There 
is a little thicket on the far side of a dry river. I 
see some little deer feeding on the young shoots of 
the trees. They are so far away the fawns look like 
baby rabbits. They are very timid but they are 
happy. Their mothers and fathers will care for 
them. Here I am alone in this tree. My hands 
are dirty and bloody. I look at them. Water 
from my eyes falls on them. But it is not enough 


44 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


to make them clean. Then I think of how my 
father used to look at my hands and say softly in 
voice like the velvet on the horns of a moose, “Non- 
be zhinga.” * Yes, they are “ little hands.” But he 
never said those soft words when blood and clay 
were on them. It was only after I had used the 
root of the soap-weed and water on them and had 



dried them with sweet grass or wild sage. Maybe 
he would be of such big heart to see me now he 
would say u Non-be zhinga ,” even to dirty hands! 

The women are coming nearer. They keep looking 
back. Sometimes they run. They seem to fear 
something behind them — something they cannot 
see. It may be people behind the hill. From my 

* Nong'-be zhinga. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


45 


tree I cannot tell. Then I grow glad for I think 
it may be my naughty ghost that stole the um'- 
bag-the! Maybe he has found that I cannot cook 
without a fire and that he may find better things 
if he follows them. But I soon hear more whistling 
in my tree so I shut my mouth hard and know that 
I must be brave. If I get away from the women 
I shall cross the big water. It looks very angry and 
yellow now. I do not like to try. 

Even though there is much numpa , the fear, in 
my heart, my eyes like to see the faces of the two 
women. My ears like to hear their voices. They 
sound better than ghost voices. Yet I do not want 
them to catch me. 

One of the women has on many beads, her robe 
is trimmed with much fringe; and many elk-teeth 
are sewed all over the front and back of the shirt. 
I can see that she has had much paint on her face 
but it is much smeared. She has been weeping. 
The other woman is old. Her arms are skinny 
and wrinkled. Whenever the young woman stumbles, 
the old woman picks her up roughly and says words 
to her in angry voice. I can see the younger one has 
tired moccasins. I fear the old one. Her eyes and 


46 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


nose are like those of the eagle. I think she could 
tear me to pieces. 

The earth is rocky in spots here so there is no 
grass. They step from stone to stone, that they 
may leave no track. It is clear that human beings 
chase them. Then I grow sick. They will surely 
be caught! There is trouble. I see it in their faces. 
I cannot escape. They will surely see me and I 
shall be killed. 

They come nearer the tree. My heart goes thu! 
thu! against my ribs. The older woman says many 
words. The younger one grunts sometimes. Their 
dress is not like that of our tribe. My ears listen 
to see what tongue they speak. They are not our 
kins-people, the Poncas, for the Poncas speak the 
language of the Ma-has. They are not Pawnees 
for they wear no scalp lock like a horn. “But they 
are only women.” I think, “They wear no scalp 
lock. It may be they are Pawnees.” But again 
my ears listen. I hear many words that are like 
the words of my people yet the talk is different. 
They may be Crows. They may be Assinniboines. 
They may be the Tetons, kinsmen of the Yank- 
tonais. I do not know; but I fear the elder woman. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


47 


They are so busy talking about something that 
they forget to look for signs, except from the direc- 
tion from which they came. I wish I knew their 
tongue. They sit down under my tree for the day 
is warm and they are leg weary. My little gourd 
and cooking pot hide on the other side of the tree. 
I sit very still. Maybe they will not see me at all. 
There is nothing for them to eat here and no place 
to hide or sleep. Maybe they will go on after they 
have rested. 

They sit down. Water falls from the eyes of the 
younger woman. I like her. Her face is good. 
But there is much sorrow in it. It is not like the 
buffalo lariat. It is like the grass chain. Then 
Elder Sister takes something from her pack. It is 
dried buffalo meat and corn. She hands it to Younger 
Sister who puts a little to one side for some spirit, 
I think. Then she eats. Elder Sister does the same. 
Then they rest in silence. Water comes into my 
mouth for I am very hungry. I am hungry all 
the time now. I wonder if I shall ever taste the 
um'-bag-the again. When the people go on the sum- 
mer buffalo meat hunt they always wish to eat 
only the best parts of the buffalo. But we are 


48 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


taught to save even the forequarters which is the 
poorest part of the buffalo. This is that we may not 
waste it and so suffer one day from no food at all. 
Now, I wish I had even the forequarter of the 
poorest old tough buffalo herd leader! 

It is sun-high. I wish they would move on. 
For a time they do not talk. The Elder Sister takes 
a little bag from her pouch. It is made from a 
bird-skin. I know there is magic in it. She offers 
it to Younger Sister. But Younger Sister only 
weeps and shakes her head. I know she says, “It 
is of no use.” Then I remember that in our tribe 
are some old women who can make these medicine 
bags. Sometimes they are to put on an enemy 
to cause him to pass to the land of ghosts and shad- 
ows without an arrow. Sometimes when a young 
maid wants a young brave to take her for his squaw 
she touches him with medicine. Then he wants 
her for his squaw. So I wonder which kind of med- 
icine is in the bag. 

Elder Sister says many angry words till at last 
Younger Sister takes the bag. She murmurs some- 
thing like wind in the tree tops. Then Elder Sister 
looks around for a place to sleep. I can tell by the 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


49 


signs she makes that she wants water. She looks 
all about and — yes, her eyes are on my cooking pot 
and my gourd! Now, I know she will see me! She 
speaks in fast, sharp voice to Younger Sister who 



Elder Sister 

is afraid, too. They fear to put their hands on my 
two friends, so I am very happy. I shall put numpa, 
the fear, in their hearts! Then they will run away 
and leave me alone. I do not like to be left all 
alone again but I do not want their pursuers to 


50 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


capture me, too. So I stay close in the leafy branches 
and when all is silent again, I call “To-who!” Both 
women jump. They cannot see me. Next, they 
examine the bones. I know they are saying, “No, 
these are not owl’s bones. There is no owl’s nest in 
the tree.” Then Younger Sister runs on swift 
moccasins towards the river, the Ni-u-ta-che. Elder 
Sister drops her bag of meat and runs after her. 
Elder Sister will not look back. I know that. She 
is too angry at Younger Sister. If Younger Sister 
looks back and sees me she will think I am a ghost, 
for I am climbing down to get the bag of meat. 
I get it quickly and climb back into the tree. I 
eat the meat as a starved coyote eats, only I save 
some. The bag is a very pretty one, all trimmed 
with red and yellow porcupine quill embroidery. I 
tie it around me with some more of my pretty fringes. 

0, how I want water to drink! After this I shall 
fill my little gourd and always keep it near me, 
full of water. It is empty now. I watch the women. 
When Elder Sister catches Younger Sister she 
beats her with a stick and Younger Sister weeps. 
They quarrel much and I see Younger Sister be- 
come angry. Then Elder Sister grows quiet and 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


51 


together they hunt the nug-the. At last I see them 
dig up many roots. I hope they will leave some for 
me. I cannot sit in this tree all night. Yet they 
stay always in sight. Sometimes they see a speck 
on the western horizon where they came from. 
Then they lie down quickly in the tall grasses. 
But from my tall tree I can see it is only a stray 
deer or wolf or antelope. 

It grows late. The sun has passed almost to the 
underworld. I think they may be going on when 
I see that Elder Sister misses the bag of meat. So 
she comes back on her trail. Once she turns about 
and I quickly jump down from my tree. I will 
make her afraid. It is better this way for she would 
surely find me if she came back. So I raise both 
hands and she turns and runs to Younger Sister 
again. I cannot tell whether she thinks I belong to 
to the ga-ja-zhe, the little people, or whether she fears 
a camp is near and that I have just strayed a few 
moccasin steps from it. She may strike me in fear if 
she thinks I am one of the ga-ja-zhe, for they lead 
people astray; or she may think my magic so strong 
she may tremble at me. 

Then if she thinks my people are near, she may 


52 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


try to kill me so I cannot go back and tell them that 
two lone women of another tribe are near! I wish 
I knew just what is in her head. But at last I get 
a strong heart. My moccasins go towards the two 
women. They put their arms about each other. 
I see numpa, the fear, in their faces. I walk on slow 
moccasins that they may fear me; that they may see 
I have dignity. That is the way my father does. 
On-pon the Elk often says to show fear is to be 
weak like the earth-worm; to show dignity when dan- 
ger is near, is to be strong like the long-tailed-cat- 
that-lives-in-the-High-Hills.* 

Now I know the words of On-pon the Elk are true 
for the two women stand trembling in fear and let 
the danger come upon them. I go slowly so much 
time passes. At last when I am but a few moccasin 
steps away I make the sign of friendship. They 
raise their hands so I have no fear of them now. 
Then in the language of the prairies, the silent lan- 
guage, Elder Sister asks many questions. 

“Where are your people?” asks Elder Sister. 
I do not wish her to know how far away are my 
people so I say with my little, bloody, dirty hands, 

* Rocky Mountain Lion. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


53 


“My people are toward-the-heat.” (That means 
the South). Elder Sister has not a very good head. 
If she had she would say, she would ask, “How many 
moccasin steps away?” But she does not think of 
that. She asks, “How many of your people are 
there?” and I point to the grass blades. But then 
I see Elder Sister is not altogether like the loon, for 
her eyes go hunting for camp smoke. When there 
are so many red men together, they must have 
cooking fires. So I quickly answer her eyes and I 
say with my hands, “They build no camp fires. 
They fear the enemy.” I do not say what tribe is 
the enemy for I fear I may say her tribe. She 
speaks to Younger Sister and I let my ears stay 
open. Then I am sure they are Assinniboines. 
Once some of their people came to our winter lodges 
for buffalo meat. They were very hungry and had 
been lost from their hunting party in a snow storm 
when the moon hid. I heard their words when they 
spoke to each other. It was two winters ago but 
I think the sound is still in my ears. But what 
brings two Assinniboine women here in the moon- 
in-which-they-plant? They are trying to escape 
from someone. That I know now. So I ask, “Elder 


54 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


Sister, are you two prisoners?” She shakes her 
head so I must ask no more. It would not be polite 
for me, a little sister, to put any more questions out. 

Now I know what she said to Younger Sister! 
She said, “Wait here. Watch the ga-ja-zhe. I 
will crawl to the top of a high hill and look for 
signs of her people which are many like the new 
grass blades!” Then I know if she sees no signs 
she will be cruel to me. She will find the bag of 
dried meat and take it away. She will beat me. 
So I think I shall find out something from Younger 
Sister. When Elder Sister’s back looks at us, I 
raise my hands and say quickly, “I am lost. I ran 
away from my captors, the Yanktonais. I go back 
to my people. I have suffered much. I see that 
Elder Sister is not kind to you. Come with me to 
my people. They will call you sister.” Younger 
Sister looks fear toward Elder Sister who just now 
turns to look at us. We are standing straight. She 
does not know we have spoken. We are like the 
trees. Maybe the wind has made us bow but we 
are once more standing straight. I can see by the 
way Elder Sister’s moccasins move that she thinks 
Younger Sister fears her. Younger Sister sees it 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


55 


too. I laugh when I see Younger Sister open her 
mouth and bravely stick her tongue out like a snake, 
pointing it at Elder Sister. Then I think: “Yes, the 
wind blows toward Elder Sister.” Then my hands 
say, “Tell me thy story.” 

Younger Sister tells me that the husband of Elder 
Sister wanted her to be his new squaw. Younger 
Sister had hate in her heart for him. He was old. 
He was ugly but he had many ponies; he had many 
robes and deer skins and antelope hides. Elder 
Sister had tanned the hides and prepared the robes, 
so much hate was in her heart for Younger Sister 
when the husband took the robes to give to the 
father of Younger Sister. For that is their custom 
when a man wants a wife. She says she cannot 
tell it all now, but that Elder Sister tried to kill 
her. Then she told Elder Sister that she wanted 
to escape; that she did not want her man. That 
she knew a young brave who would make her a 
good husband but because he had no ponies her 
father would never let her go to the young man. 
His name was Eagle Feather. The feather of a 
young eagle lies at our feet. Younger Sister shows 
it to me that I may know his name. She says when 


56 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


Elder Sister hears all this story she helps her escape; 
but so great is her fear of the beating her husband 
will give her, she comes with Younger Sister. They 
know the husband follows. He has some others to 
help him catch the women. If they are captured 
they may be beaten or have their noses cut off. 

They know that Eagle Feather 
has joined the husband. Elder 
Sister is a mystery woman. 

Then I let many thoughts 
camp in my head. I know 
now! That mystery pack was 
for Younger Sister to touch 
Eagle Feather with. Then 
he would so want her for his 
squaw that he would not let 
the husband hurt her! 

So I ask, “Does Eagle Feather want thee for his 
squaw?” Younger Sister hangs her head like a 
flower that is thirsty for water. Then I know she 
only wants him. She will need her magic bird skin! 
My mother says a maid should wait till a brave 
makes the first sign that he wants her for his squaw. 

Elder Sister is angry now. She has lost her man. 



THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


57 


If he catches her she fears he may kill her. She 
has gained nothing by her hunting. When I look 
in her face I think how hard it would be to sleep 
on a rock. I see why the husband wanted a new 
squaw, though Younger Sister has no head. 

I see Elder Sister returning. I have no need to 
say to Younger Sister, “Let thy lips be silent.” 
She will not tell. We shall be together against 
Elder Sister if she is hostile. 

I think she knows this for as she comes up she 
makes signs to ask how many sleeps away are my 
people. I do not see her eyes. I am digging the 
root of the nug-the. 

It is getting late. I see the musk rats and the 
beavers far below in the wet marsh lands that lie 
near the big river, running to their round lodges. 
Long lines of deer and elk are following a trail to 
water. A long-tailed cat jumps from the bushes 
where he has slept hiding all day. He lands on the 
back of a young deer. He sucks the blood from its 
throat. The others run away in fright. I see one 
little spotted fawn run up and down alone. I know 
it is her mother that is dead. My heart weeps. 
All the marsh hens, the gulls and the loons are 


58 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


flying to their nests in the grasses of the marsh. 
Shu , the prairie chicken, sits quiet on her eggs while 
the father prairie chicken guards her. The curlew 
flies past us crying her name, “ Ki-kon-thi”* All 
this travels to my eyes and my ears. Then I see 
a deer fall. Soon another falls, and then I see a 
man crawl out of the bushes and finish the two deer. 
He draws something from their sides. That is the 
arrow. My head tells me this. My eye moccasins 
cannot travel so far. 

Elder Sister sees all this. She speaks of it to 
Younger Sister who weeps. But Elder Sister is of 
big heart. They cannot see us, she says. We are 
high up peeping over a ridge. The river is far below 
us. It is a day’s walk to the river bank. Then I 
see that they, too, wish to cross over that they may 
be sure their pursuers will lose the trail. Men are 
like ghosts. They lose the trail if you cross water. 
That makes me think of my little ghost. I have not 
felt him for a long time. But I must not let the 
women cross water alone. They must take me, too. 
We all know the man will not stay long where he 
has killed the deer. He will take them to his camp. 

* Ki-kong'-thi. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


59 


Tonight we must sleep. First we shall eat. Elder 
Sister has no arrows. I see in her belt a knife. It 
is not of the kind our people use. So I ask about 
it. She says one of the people whose skin is of the 
color of the inner layer of the corn husk brought it 
to her people. They gave him a winter buffalo 
hide for it. But few in the tribe have them. I 
hope Elder Sister does not get angry with me and 
cut me with that knife. It is worse than the horns 
of the buffalo for it is sharp all along one edge. 

Our moccasins go on the trail again. We think 
we may cross the river farther toward-the-heat. 
I have not so much fear in my heart now. Two 
people are near me. Soon we come to a clump 
of plum trees. Their white blossoms fill all the air 
with a good smell. I like it. Younger Sister’s face 
looks happier, too, as she smells the flowers. Elder 
Sister does not look at the flowers. From her pack 
she takes out pieces of sinew. With these she puts 
pieces of the plum bush and makes a trap. She 
goes out of sight inside the clump of plum trees. 
She knows what is in there. We all know. There 
must be a little spring of clear water there. My 
mouth has wanted water all day. Now I cannot 


60 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


wait to drink so I start to plunge into the thicket 
after her. Then I find Younger Sister is my friend. 
She holds me back and her hands say, “Silence.” 
If I scare the rabbits away Elder Sister will beat me. 

Soon Elder Sister comes back stealing like a 
coyote. When she sees the trail my moccasins tried 
to take her face looks like an angry sky. She takes 
the knife out and motions that she would kill me 
if I disturb her traps. I am so angry at this I look 
straight in her eye. After a little time she lets her 
eyes talk to her moccasins. Then I know she fears 
I have some magic, for I have not told her how I 
came to be here alone. Soon I go to a spot a few 
moccasin tracks apart from them. I stoop down 
and take some earth. I put it on my head. Then 
I raise my hands to the Wa-kon-dah. The two 
women do not let their eyes walk towards me. 
Yet I know they see me. Elder Sister will fear 
to touch me now. I have talked to the Wa-kon-dah. 

For a long time I stand in silence. The rabbits 
go past me unafraid. They are going to the thicket 
to get water and to hide from the larger animals. 
The two women are hidden behind a rock. Soon 
Elder Sister goes in and comes back with a rabbit. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


61 


I still stand with my arms to the sky. The sun drops 
nearer to the underworld. The dusk, the-face- 
hidden-in-darkness, appears. The Evening Star 
hangs in the sky. It looks at me. 

When the sun at last drops below 
the circle, I let my hands fall and 
my moccasins go back to the two 
women. 

Younger Sister has gathered 
much dry grass and a few twigs. She takes a little 
bag from her belt and strikes two pieces of rock 
together. The sparks fly out. In the pile of grass 
she has placed a bunch of the cotton-tail from the 
reeds which grow in damp places. Soon we have a 
fire. Elder Sister has skinned the rabbit. She fixes 
the fire so the smoke will not rise and tell tales. She 
takes my cooking pot and tells me to go inside the 
clump of trees and get water. My moccasins go 
gladly. First I drink all I want. I fill my gourd. 
Then I fill the pot and take it back to her. She is 
cooking the rabbit on a stick over the fire. 

Soon she starts to take dried meat from her 
pouch to mix with some fresh nug-the we have found 
as we walked along. Then she remembers that 



62 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


she has lost the bag of dried meat. My face tells 
no tales and the little bag of dried meat lies quiet 
under my little shirt. It is ready to help me if I 
am ever hungry again. She does not look at me. 
She thinks she dropped it in the grass near the tree 
where I roosted like an owl so long and threw my 
bluejay bones down. 

She gives each of us a piece of the rabbit. We 
eat it and all drink from the cooking pot. I am 
now full of belly. I feel very brave and strong. 
I think I shall never be hungry again. 

We all sit awhile in silence. Far off below us 
we hear the curlew. The blue-wings and the green- 
necks which have been kept back fly past us high 
above. Dimly I see them settling below us in the 
marsh lands near the river. A big moon comes up 
and makes the earth look like a soft day. I like it. 
Soon Elder Sister gets up and goes to a high point 
to look for signs. While she is gone I sit close to 
Younger Sister. She puts her arm about me. She 
takes a brush from the robe and brushes my hair 
with it. I know it must look very much like the 
tumble weed; like the hair of a dog that has been in 
a burr patch. I do not know her words but Younger 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


63 


Sister is laughing a little low laugh like gurgling 
water and saying things I know to be kind. So I 
put my arms around her neck and pat her cheek. 
She brushes my long hair again. After a long time 
she gets it so she can put it into two braids. It 
feels better. I know my mother would be glad. 
Every day she brushes it when I am with my people. 
When I think about that I think I feel water coming 
into my eyes. I move my hand and find it is wet. 
Younger Sister has been weeping! I pat her again. 
She must know much sorrow. I hope I may take 
her to my people. The wife of Little Horn passed 
to the land of ghosts and shadows when the grass 
grew before. She took the zhinga-zhinga only one 
sun walk old with her. Little Horn is very lonely 
and sad. Many days he sits alone on the hills. For 
four seasons he has not cut his hair, so great is his 
sorrow. I think I shall give Younger Sister to him 
for a squaw. He does not like the maids among my 
people who wish to be his squaws. They laugh 
too much and try to smile on him like sunlight on a 
sad, shady brook. I saw a maid named Sacred 
Paint who smiled much on Little Horn. But his 
eyes are like the eyes of a mole. — I think he will 


64 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


like Younger Sister. She is sad, too. They will be 
happy together. I will tell him to cut his hair and 
leave off mourning for the one who is gone. — But 
while I am thinking this comes Elder Sister. She 
has seen no signs; only in the far distance where I 
saw the fleeing buffalo herd she points and asks if 
it is clouds or smoke. She says words to Younger 
Sister. I can tell that Younger Sister says she does 
not know. Younger Sister has not a good head. 
But her heart is good. 

We all lie down to sleep. Elder Sister looks a 
question about my robe. I motion that it was 
stolen. She wraps herself in hers and goes to sleep. 
I crawl into the arms of Younger Sister who pats 
me as Kage did. We are both beneath her warm 
robe. 

My eyes are open like the owl's. I hear so many 
noises. Then the mosquitoes sing a war song about 
us. Sometimes they bite me and make me angry. 
I wish to listen to the silent sounds. Far away I 
hear a bullfrog playing on a tom-tom for his war 
dance. The noisy-bug rasps in an oak tree a few 
moccasins distant. I think he disturbs an owl for 
I hear the “To-who” that makes me cover my head 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


65 


in fear if I am alone. Rabbits and other small 
animals scurry about in the moonlight. I see a few 
rabbits having a dance on a flat rock. The moon 
shows them to me. Whenever they hear a new 
sound they run away fast and hide. After a time 
they come back and dance again. Far off I hear a 
long, lonesome howl. I know what that is. But 
I do not fear. It is only the coyote after shu, the 
prairie chicken. I hear barks and yelps as if as many 
coyotes as there are leaves on a tree were there. 
But I know it is only one coyote. 

The rabbits are still dancing and having a pleasant 
time. Suddenly they hear a sound. I hear it, too. 
My heart stops talking to my ribs. I cannot breathe. 
The sound I hear is “ Ha -kug-thi ?” It is the whip- 
poor-will. Again he says u Ha -kug-thi?” The rab- 
bits hide. Their dance is over. They have numpa, 
the fear, in their hearts. I know better than to an- 
swer the birds. But my heart again says, “ Thu-thu” 
to my ribs when I hear Elder Sister turn over in 
her sleep. She sits up and answers, “No” — in loud 
voice. Again my heart stops saying “thu” I wait 
for the sound u Ha f -kug-thi?” to come again. I wait. 
It seems many darknesses and sun walks that I 


66 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


wait. I think I am an old woman — the time is so 
long. Then I know the birds will not again reply. 
That is a sign that Elder Sister will soon die . If 
they say it again she would be safe. Now I know 
she will soon go to the white path across the sky. 
I wonder if she knows it? All our people know the 
sign. I do not feel happy at this. It means danger 
to Younger Sister and to me, too, and Elder Sister 
has a good head. We need her on our journey. 
When we get to the camp of my people I shall not 
miss her. I think of this much. 


CHAPTER IV 



FTER a time I see a cloud or shadow 
V all about us. The moon is not so 


Wi Strange things come to me in 
my dreams. I think I am again 


bright as before. But I am sleep 
hungry now, I dream. 


in the circle of tipis of my people. 
They are eating a wild turkey. 
The son of On-pon the Elk, 


wishes to eat the turkey’s head. I know that this 
is a dream, for all the children of the Ma-has know 
that to eat a turkey’s head will give the boy 
watery eyes wdien he hunts. But I dream again. 
They are giving buffalo liver to the boys that they 
may have clear voices; that they may be brave. — 
But this cannot be so for our people do not hunt the 
buffalo in the time of planting. Then I dream of 
the moon. This is bad so I fear much. And I 
awaken. Rabbits and squirrels are running past 
us. I think a wind is blowing. A few drops of rain 
fall. The moon plays follow-my-leader with some- 


67 


68 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


one in the clouds. But I feel more than this. I 
wonder if we are in a mist. We cannot see the moon 
clearly, and I think the dust-smoke from a herd of 
buffaloes is in my nose. I think I hear the far dis- 
tant voice of hoofs. It is time to awaken Elder 
Sister. So I put my hand on her head. She jumps 
up and is very angry. Then she sniffs and says 
one word to Younger Sister. Younger Sister begins 
to weep, but Elder Sister strikes her on the head. 
We must all use our heads. The herd of buffaloes 
is running toward us. We have much silence. 
Language cannot save us. 

It is in my thoughts that a prairie fire must have 
stampeded the buffaloes. We speak no words but 
our moccasins take up the trail to the big water. 
The herd is still a long way off. If the sun walked 
we could see to look for a cave in a place where the 
bank is steep. But it is quite dark now. Even 
the moon has gone to sleep. We walk along like the 
mole that is blind. We stumble often. My little 
moccasins are full of holes, and all the sharp things 
I step on cut my feet. The thorns which grow as 
we come nearer to the river find all the holes and 
bite my feet. Sometimes I feel so tired I think I 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


69 


shall lie down and let the herd run over me. That 
would not be bad. But my ghost would run about 
scaring people, so I must be brave and keep on run- 
ning. The land slopes down very fast so it is very 
hard to stand up in many places. There is some 
timber and there are deep ravines and wide gullies. 
I am scratched and torn and my feet bleed but 
because the two women do not stop to weep I must 
go on as they do. Sometimes we stop to breathe, 
then quickly Elder Sister goes on. My heart is 
good toward her. If I had been alone the whole 
herd would have run over me. I wish to get back 
to my father and mother that they may have no 
more grief in their faces; that my father may cut his 
hair and cease to mourn me as the dead; that my 
mother’s face may smile as a day smiles when the 
sun walks the land. 

I hear the hoof beats coming nearer and nearer. 
They sound like the voices of the Thunder Beings. 
The air brings us noises of bellowing and snorting. 
Then I know the whole herd is plunging over the 
high bluff above us. It falls like rain down the side 
of a tipi. Most of the animals will roll down and 
be crushed. A few will escape and try to swim the 


70 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


river. It comes to me that one of the buffaloes 
may save me. The thought in my head makes 
my sore moccasins strong. 

Dust-smoke fills the air. We see it with our noses. 
It is too dark for the eyes. To our ears comes the 
thud-thud of the many feet of buffaloes. I think 
in the dust-smoke is mixed fire-smoke. I cannot 
tell surely but I think so. I feel a drop of water 
on my face. The Thunder Voices are speaking. 
They roar. We see the light flash from their eyes. 
All the time I am sure a big buffalo will come sliding 
down the hill side or roll over and over and fall on 
me. First I try to jump to one side. Then I jump 
to the other. I hope the buffalo may slide between 
the two spots. Then I know I am like the loon. 
If I go fast and go straight I shall reach the bottom 
first and there hide under the bank. There are 
many caves at the edge of the water. Just then 
the eyes of the Thunder Beings flash and I look back. 
0, the pity of what I see! Down in great heaps 
come the buffaloes. Some are trying to run to keep 
their hoofs on the earth. Those behind are beginning 
to fall, crushed by the mad followers; the young 
bulls, the cows and the calves. One of the head 



“Down in great heaps come the buffaloes” 



THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


71 


ones is almost upon me. I jump to one side. He 
slides on past, still keeping his feet on the earth. 
He is an old buffalo, one of the leaders. Since 
he was a young calf he has escaped many red people 
on the winter hunt. He has been saved from the 
kill of the summer meat hunt. His beard is long 
so I know he has grown old and wise. He is a leader 
of the herd. He tells the herd when to walk and 
when to gallop. He has driven off many packs of 
hungry wolves that tried to get the young buffalo 
calves. When the eyes of the Thunder Beings 
flash again I see the others gaining on us. Both 
the Assinniboine women run as do I. Their faces 
look surprise that I have not fallen down long ago. 
Even then it comes in my head to keep them in 
fear of me, so when the light comes again I raise 
my hand and stand still to let them know I speak 
with the Wa-kon-dah. We could not hear each 
other if we spoke. A wind is blowing now. Some 
rain is falling. It all mixes with the sound of the 
herd. I should not stop even to put numpa, the fear, 
into the heart of the Assinniboine women. I am 
many moccasins behind them for they run like the 
lightning. Many huge buffalo bodies are rolling and 


72 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


sliding toward me. They do not see me. If they 
did nothing could stop them. They come falling 
from the top like water over a fall. One is almost 
upon me. The lightning flashes again. I seize his 
horns and hold on as tightly as my small hands 
can hold. His head is already pointed downward. 
Though there is so little meat on my bones that a 
coyote would not stop to pick them, I am heavy 
enough so I make him stumble. I find my hands 
letting go. I am thrown over and over in the air. 
In the light I see the two women running and I 
see a look of fear in their faces as I go over. Then I 
die. The earth rises up and strikes me very hard. 
But I am dead so I do not know that I am rolling 
over and over; that the rocks are cutting me; that 
the thorns are scratching me and tearing my hair 
out like bunches of prairie grass dug up by the mole. 
All I know is that after a time I find myself huddled 
into a cave with Younger Sister. Over our heads 
are sounds like thunder voices. It is the herd still 
pouring over. Many dead ones are piled up all 
about us. The dirt and smell from their steaming 
bodies is strong. Then the few rain drops have 
wet the land and made mud of the dust. When- 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


73 


ever the eyes of the Thunder Beings flash, I see all 
of this. Far out on the river I see many brave ones 
struggling to swim across that mighty flood. It is 
strong like the buffalo herd. It pushes on and on. 
It does not stop for anything in its trail. It is carry- 
ing the bodies of the herd down toward-the-heat. 
Toward my people! 

It is still very dark but I have a thought. I can- 
not tell Younger Sister. I do not speak her tongue. 
When the sun again walks I shall tell her in the silent 
language what I wish to do. I wonder where Elder 
Sister is but I cannot ask. So with the danger, the 
dirt and the evil smell all about us I fall asleep. 
The robe of Younger Sister is about me. Snakes 
may bite me. Worms may crawl over us. I am too 
sick and sleep hungry to think of that. My many 
cuts and scratches bleed. I died once and came 
back. It may be I shall die again and never come 
back. I have great pain. I sleep. 


CHAPTER V 



AM sure the sun has come from the un- 
I derworld and that sun-high is long past. 
Night is again coming on when I am again 
awakened by the hand of Younger Sister. 
At first my head does not know about it. 
Then I open my eyes. We are in a very large cave. 
What we thought last night was the other end of 
a small cave is a place filled with many animals. 
They are all stupid and sleep hungry. They are 
like us. And there is numpa, the fear, in their hearts. 
They do not try to attack us. We both know they 
will soon want food. When they begin to move 
we must be ready to fight. I almost laugh. We 
74 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


75 


have no bows and arrows. We have no clubs nor 
knives. We shall be killed yet. I think of the things 
that have happened since the day I tried to find the 
plant that looks like tripe. I wonder what my 
mother said when she went to go back to the tipis 
and saw that I was gone. My mother has a happy 
heart so I think she said to some squaw, “My 
wi-zhun'-ge has the tired moccasins. She has gone 
back to the tipi.” (She calls me her daughter in 
that way when she speaks to someone about me). 
Then I know all the women gathered together the 
fresh nug-the and the tender shoots of any plants they 
wanted to cook. Each one tried to show she had 
more than any other. When my mother came near 
to the tipi, then said my father, “ Where is our 
daughter?” He did not call me “ wi-zhun'-ge .” 
That is the word my mother uses. He called me 
his “ wi' -ni-tlne” It is our custom. 

Even in the danger I think of all these things. 
I weep when I think of the pain in the face of my 
father and mother when it is at last in their heads 
that I am lost. I know great parties were sent out 
to look for me. When the darkness came on my 
mother let much rain fall from her eyes. It is in 


76 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


my head that my father walked alone much on the 
hills where he knew the women had gathered plants. 
He thought he might hear me cry. I know there 
was much heart pain for my father and that because 
no water comes to the eyes of a brave, it was very 
hard for him. Then I weep again in sorrow for him. 

Younger Sister believes I weep because there is 
numpa, the fear, in my heart. She does not know. 
Sometimes I feel that I am a woman and that 
Younger Sister is a child, a zhinga-zhinga of the 
Assinniboines. But my heart is great for her. I 
must get her out safe for I am sure Little Horn 
will take her for his squaw. His other squaw who 
now walks in the white path across the sky was 
not so soft like a child as is Younger Sister. But 
I must let Little Horn fight his own fights. 

I wonder if they found any footprints which 
showed that the Yanktonais had carried me away? 
It is in my head that my people found no signs. 
If they did they would send large war-parties out 
at once. I should see their trails from the hill- 
tops. — No, my people fear that I have let my moc- 
casins wander to the river; that I have fallen in. 
The river speaks with loud voice, yet the river tells 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


77 


no tales of loved ones carried away. It may be 
the river will tell of such a thing away below, far 
toward-the-heat when she gets tired of playing 
with the body of the loved one. She sometimes 
throws the body to the shore down where the Qua- 
paw people live. We are the Up-Stream-Folk, the 
Ma-has. Once the Quapaws were our brothers. 
But that was so many winters ago the oldest man 
in our tribe does not have it in his head. He heard 
the tale from his father who got it from many grand- 
fathers. So now the Quapaws, the Down-Stream- 
Folk, speak another tongue. 

But what do I care for the Quapaws? How can 
we get out of this cave and escape from these fright- 
ened animals? I am hungry again. In all the 
summers I have known I have never felt so much 
belly famine. 

I speak to Younger Sister in the silent language 
and she tells me that the Thunder Voice spoke to a 
buffalo just behind Elder Sister; that he rolled over 
and struck Elder Sister. Then she covers her face 
with her hands so I know now that the whip-poor- 
will told it straight. Younger Sister and I must let 
our moccasins travel on alone. I do not like to go 


78 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


on leaving the body of Elder Sister out there alone 
with no earth over it. I have no love in my heart 
for Elder Sister but I do not wish her ugly ghost 
to follow us. If I put even a handful of earth on 
her, she cannot follow. I cannot tell this to Younger 
Sister. She would not understand. She is an 
Assinniboine. I motion to her to come on. We are 
saying a-ga-geth , good-bye, to the cave. It has been 
a good friend. One of the wolves that huddles in the 
far corner with glaring, greenish eyes jumps out at 
us. My neck has a big bunch in it. My heart 
ceases to say “thu-thu” to my ribs. If he strikes 
one of us down all the animals will rush upon us 
and eat us. He is nearer to Younger Sister. He 
will get her first. I know I have no strength and 
my bones are sore. My arms are stiff like a wet 
hide newly scraped. But I see a sharp piece of rock 
on the bottom of the cave near my feet. I throw 
it at the wolf. He thinks a bee has alighted on his 
side! It makes me angry so that I feel my little 
face get hot! I will make him look at me. I see 
a long leg bone of an antelope lying there. It may 
be the bone of an antelope this very wolf killed and 
dragged in here to eat some time in another season. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


79 


I like to think that for I shall hit the wolf on the 
head and kill him! I am as angry as a brave. I 
want to kill the wolf. I raise the big bone and 
strike as hard as I can. Then I see something that 
makes me wonder. The wolf was not after me. 
I have too little meat on my bones. He wanted 
Younger Sister! When I hit him he turns at me and 
I wonder to see what she does for the wolf falls back 
to the earth. He does not give a cry of pain. He 
is dead! I see Younger Sister pull the knife from 
his heart. Where did she get the knife? I ask no 
questions. If she wants me to know she will tell 
me whether Elder Sister gave it to her or whether 
she took it from the body of Elder Sister. It is not 
my quarrel that they had the hate heart each for 
the other. 

The eyes of the Younger Sister flash like the eyes 
of the Thunder Beings. Then she is weak. She 
puts her arm about me and together we pass from 
the cave. She looks deep into my eyes. I cannot 
tell why. Often she pauses and holds me away as 
long as her arm and lets her eyes talk to mine. 
Then she murmurs words like the words of a gentle 
stream. It is not in my head to answer her question. 


80 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


Outside we have a sad brown covering for all the 
earth — piles of dead buffaloes, the meat and cover 
of the plains people — dead! It makes me sad to 
look at them. My father says these will be the last 
of the herds. What shall we use to make tipi-covers 
of if the herds disappear? Where shall we get the 
horn for the spoons? Where shall we get the softest 
robes to sleep on and to cover us on the nights when 
Cold Man comes shrieking from the north and 
blows his icy breath down the ti-hu-kon, the smoke 
hole? But we hurry on, walking on the bodies of 
our dead friends. Already the coyotes and wolves 
are feasting on the carcasses. I wish my people 
were here for they could skin the animals and use 
these hides for tipi covers. It is springtime and the 
hair has been shed. It will be little work to tan 
them. That gives me a good new thought: Some 
of my people will know of this stampede. They 
will see the dust-smoke. They will watch to see 
where the herd plunged; then they will come looking 
for hides! I hope this may be so. It may be they 
have had to run to hide and save their lives as we 
did. It may be they are on a far trail looking for 
me. They may have gone toward the Cheyennes 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


81 


for the Cheyennes often make a raid and steal 
our ponies. I dare not wait here to see. I must 
get to the far side of the water and move on toward- 
the-heat. 

The sky is full of scattered clouds. The sun 
shines down upon us. It is very hot. I think water 
will soon fall from the skies again. It seems so many 
moccasin tracks to the river’s edge! We have 
now passed the great pile of dead buffaloes but we 
have to step aside for they lie like heaps of hail- 
stones after a storm. The dust-smoke is all asleep. 
If a prairie fire chased the buffaloes, the rain of the 
night just past must have killed it farther back. 
The rain we felt was too little. It was like a woman’s 
weeping. 

Nearer and nearer we come to the edge of the 
water. Younger Sister makes the sign that the man 
who killed the two deer was near this spot. I think 
that this is so. But why move the hands over so 
small a thing? Younger Sister has the knife and I 
have my magic. But I feel that the man would not 
stay here when the noise of the herd came to his ears. 
Just as this thought is in my head we go around a 
rock. Then we are on the sand that lies close to the 


82 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


water. We rest awhile and watch the poor dead 
buffaloes go floating and whirling around in the 
current of the big water. Sometimes we see one 
still struggling to get across. I ask the Wa-kon-dah 
to help them. Maybe they will start another herd 
on the other side. We do not rest long. We soon 
look at each other. We cannot cross this water! 
It is wren chatter to talk of it! I am tired. I am 
hungry. There is no place to camp tonight. Many 
animals prowl near feasting off the dead buffaloes. 
Buzzards come in great numbers. They make me 
have fear. I think the same thought is in the head 
of Younger Sister. She looks at the water. I look 
at it. Maybe it would be our friend and carry us 
to the camp circle of my people. But I do not trust 
the water. A pain comes into my throat and I 
think I shall weep when something comes in sight 
around the bend in the river. It is a man in a canoe. 
I feel no fear but Younger Sister tries to hide. She 
cannot hide. He has already seen her. She has 
not a good head. He would catch her. In the canoe 
is much deer meat. This is the man we saw. He 
shall see I am not afraid! So I stand up very straight 
and raise my hand. He shall know I am a friend 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


83 


and will not harm him! I will not steal his meat! 
He raises his hand. He laughs. I like his face. 
It is good like Kage’s. I think he is a Big Voice, 
a Winnebago. I think 
I like the Winnebagoes 
now. After this I shall 
not hate all other red 
men but the Ma-has. 

I have friends in many 
tribes now. My moc- 
casins have traveled 
much. They know 
many lands. — I wish I 
had some of the deer 
meat. My eyes look 
hungry. Younger Sister hides her head in her robe. 
I wish to hit her. This is not as I have been told 
to act. But I must not hit her. She has been 
good to me. So I make the sign that she is my 
friend; that she has had much sorrow. Then I 
make the best sign I know to say that my belly is 
empty. The man looks at the sky. Yes, I know 
the rain may soon fall down. I know, too, that 
darkness will soon be upon us. He makes no sign 



84 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


for a long time. Then he says he wants to cross 
the water tonight to where his people are camped. 
Then he looks at us again. 

“ Where are your people?” he says. I tell him 
they are many sleeps away toward-the-heat. I tell 
him that the Assinniboine woman and I are alone. 
I tell it straight. He looks at me a long time. All 
my bruises and cuts speak plainly to him. He mo- 
tions us to follow him along the shore. He keeps 
close to us and rows up the stream. My moccasins 
are so tired I think we have gone many steps. After 
a long time we come to a big cave. The man has 
been here and he has put something inside the cave. 
He has covered the opening with big rocks. I know! 

We go in and at first we see nothing. I smell 
blood. Yes, over at one side I see a great pile. It 
is buffalo hides. My Big Voice has a good head. 
He has a big pile of buffalo tongues and the best 
part from the back of each animal he has skinned. 
His squaw will have much work to do when he takes 
the hides to her. He tells us to rest. Then he goes 
outside the cave and soon I smell deer meat cooking. 
I do not wish to rest. I run out and stand joyfully 
looking at the good meat. The Big Voice and I are 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


85 


friends. We talk much with our hands. After a 
time he looks at one of the big cuts on my arm. It 
is dirty and there is much dried blood on it. He 
leads me to the water and washes it. Then from 
his pack he takes out a dried herb and wets it with 
water from his mouth. He puts it on my cut arm 
and holds it tight. After a time he puts a piece of 
something like I have never seen upon it. It is like 
very thin deer skin; like woven grass but much finer. 
He tells me he got it from one of the men whose 
faces are of the color of the inner layer of the corn 
husk. He wraps it around my arm and sews it on. 
Then he looks at all the other cuts and scratches. 
He laughs at these. Then he pats my head. I smile 
up in his face. I ask him if he has any zhinga - 
zhingas in his lodge. He tells me he has four. He 
has two sons and two daughters. I ask where they 
camp and he points with his lips that they are across 
the water. When I get to my people I will tell them 
to be friends with the Big Voices. I want to play 
with his children. 

The meat is done, so he gives me a piece of it and 
I take some to Younger Sister. She acts very silly 
and hides in the cave. I ask the Big Voice why she 


86 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


does this and he says I must tell her he does not 
want her for a squaw. So I tell her this. But I 
tell it in another way. I say, “The Big Voice has 
much meat and many hides for his squaw and his 
four little ones. He tells me he has a happy lodge.” 
After that Younger Sister has a better head. She 
comes out. We go around a bend and make our- 
selves as clean as we can in the muddy water. It 
feels good to be clean again. I am careful not to 
wet the medicine the Big Voice put on my cut arm. 

My mouth and belly are still happy over the taste 
of the deer meat. Big Voice makes the fire bright 
in front of the cave. We all go inside and lie down. 
Soon we sleep. I have no fear. It is as safe as when 
I am in the tipi with my father and mother. The 
Big Voice has a good heart. As I fall asleep I hope 
his squaw has not much fear in her heart when he 
does not return. The rain falls. 

Early when the sun first shines we all wash in 
the stream. Then we eat the cold cooked meat. 
The Big Voice had cooked much. I tell him we 
wish to go across. He looks at the canoe. He does 
not need to say we cannot all go at once. The 
canoe is very small. He says he will take me over, 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


87 


then come back for the other. It will take all the 
time from when the sun comes up till the time when 
the sun goes to bed. I know this. The current is 
strong. It will carry him far down the stream. 
Then he will have to paddle very hard to get across 
again. Someone may steal his meat and hides, or 
the meat may spoil while he is gone. He has worked 
very hard. I am sad if I make his children hungry. 
So I sit down and try to let my head find a good 
trail. But the Big Voice thinks there is only one 
way. He will take me over first because I am little. 
Then he can take part of the meat. When he says 
this the Assinniboine woman puts her hands over 
her face and water falls from her eyes. The Big 
Voice does not like this. He is not very patient 
with her. Braves grow tired of a woman who is 
always a zhinga-zhinga. My mother says so. That 
is what my mother says but I know that when my 
father wishes to hunt and my mother wishes him to 
stay in the lodge and help her with the hides she 
sits down and lets her lips stick out. Then my 
father laughs and says, “Zhinga-zhinga!” But he 
always gives up his hunting and helps with the hides. 
My father had much trouble to get my mother to 


88 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


be his squaw so I think he likes her much. The 
white buffalo is always hard to find. It is a mystery 
buffalo and the Wa-kon-dah sends few of them. 
The elder ones say that my mother was once a 
mystery woman. I wonder if I shall be one? — But 
the Assinniboine gains nothing by using the wail of 
a zhinga-zhinga. Time runs by on swift moccasins 
and the Big Voice has wasted much on us. He 
seizes her by the shoulder and says angry words. 
She knows the tone so she stops weeping. Then I 
motion that he shall take her first. She shakes her 
head: “Two Faces will get you if anything happens 
to keep us too long and leave you alone at night.” 
I laugh. “I fear not Two Faces !” I say. “If my 
little ghost does not trouble me I am safe.” I am 
very brave on the outside for I wish something to 
get started across the river. The seeds of the corn 
will never grow if one sits always and says, “One 
day I shall put the corn in the earth.” 

Big Voice will not take the meat out so Younger 
Sister gets into the canoe and I am afraid they will 
all tip over. She hands me the knife and her robe. 
At this I forget all about the little ghost. I feel like 
a brave. They push out from the shore so I wander 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


89 


about to let the sun dry me, to look for new blos- 
soms. There are many beautiful ones on the sides 
of the steep bluffs. I look at my new knife. How 
hard the blade is! It is sharper than the stone 
knives our people have. Away beyond (once long 
ago) my mother visited the Pawnees. She says 
they had many knives like this given to them many 
winters ago by some of those whose faces are of the 



color of the inner layer of the corn husk. Many 
thoughts are in my head. The animals and birds 
prowling among the dead buffaloes will not harm 
me. What the Assinniboine woman said about 
Two Faces makes my face long like that of my pony. 
My mother says there is no Two Faces. But many 
of the older ones tell tales of him. Then I think 
of this one: — It was told to my father by a Teton, 
one of the kinsmen of Kage, the Yanktonai: 


90 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


Two Faces passed along. He kicked the ground. 
All the red people heard him. One foot kicked: 
they heard something ring, then they heard an owl 
hoot. The other foot kicked: the noise was like a 
buffalo bull snorting and stamping as he does when 
he makes the charge. He stepped again, a chick- 
adee sang; again he stepped, all kinds of animals 
cried their language. All the red men were afraid 
of him. One man said, “I am not afraid of Two 
Faces.” He was a very strong man. Once when 
the man was alone Two Faces caught him when he 
was not looking. He threw the man in his ear. Two 
Faces has very big ears, so the elders say. Each ear 
is big enough to hold three braves. 

One time there lived a very old man and his wife. 
They had one child. It was a very bad child. Among 
our people there are many things a little boy must 
not do. This boy did all of these things and be- 
cause they had only one child the father and mother 
did not make him do as he was told to do. Here 
are some of the things a good child must not do: 
He must not use a knife to cut his meat. The 
old men say, “A knife eats more meat; you should 
bite it.” That means a boy must learn to do things 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


91 


by himself. He must not want help from knives and 
other people. (I am glad I am strong enough to help 
myself.) 

There is a part of the inside of the buffalo which 
is very tender. The old ones who have no teeth like 
this. They cannot chew the other meat, so a boy 
must not eat this part. It is called the washna. 
Now, the bad child in the tale always screamed and 
lay down on the floor of the lodge or on the ground 
till they gave him the washna to eat. 

A boy must not drink all the broth in a cooking 
pot of buffalo meat. This bad child always took 
it all without asking. (Some of the old people say 
if a boy does this his ankles will rattle; his joints will 
get loose. I do not know. I never take the broth 
if elder ones want it.) 

A boy must not beg for all the good marrow in a 
split buffalo bone. This boy always kicked his 
moccasins against the cooking pot till his mother 
gave him the marrow to make him be quiet. The 
people did not like him. Every time his father 
and mother let him have his own way it was harder 
to make him be good. 

Among our people there is a very nice place in the 


92 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


tipi or the earth lodge. It is the place back of the 
fire, on the side opposite the flap where we go in. 
Skin robes are always spread here; that is where 
the guest should sit. Now, this bad child would 
go between the guest and the fire. This is not 
polite. He did not have to pass between the guest 
and the fire. If he had to do it, he could say, “Let 
me go. I must get something.” But he was very 
rude. He ran over the feet of the guest. People 
got so they did not visit the lodge of his father and 
mother. The parents whined much about this. 
So one day an old grandmother said, “We do not 
come because you let your child pass between us 
and the fire. You belong to our tribe. You know 
our custom for you were taught that when you were 
children.” 

So his mother grew very red in the face. Then 
she let water fall from her eyes so the old grand- 
mother said, “I will visit you again but you must 
make the child be good.” So his mother promised. 
The father did not speak words. He was very 
foolish about his son. 

One night the aged grandmother entered their 
lodge. The bad child saw a guest was coming. He 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


93 


hated the old grandmother because he knew she 
told his mother to punish him. So he ran quickly 
to the pile of soft robes. There he sat down. His 
father told him to get up. He turned his ears in. 
His mother spoke in voice like a dove asking him 
to get up that she might not be ashamed before her 
friend. But he was a selfish boy. He did not care 
if he put shame on his mother. So at last she be- 
came very angry. She said, “I will put thee out of 
the lodge and Two Faces will toss thee into his ear.” — 
She did not think Two Faces was near. He stuck 
his tongue out at her and did not move. This made 
her more angry and ashamed than ever. She jerked 
him by the arm. He screamed but she put him out- 
side and fastened the lodge so he could not come 
back. Then she sat down to talk to her friend about 
the best way to make black dye, or yellow dye, 
or green dye, or red dye. When they got through 
talking about that they talked about how to bead 
moccasins, and cruppers for the horses of the women; 
and many other things. All this time they heard the 
boy running about the lodge. He kicked like a 
wild pony. He screamed like a wild cat. 

After a time the noise did not come into the lodge. 


94 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


The mother felt numpa, the fear. So she went out- 
side to hunt for him. She wept. The boy was not 
there. All night long she wept. The old grand- 
mother stayed with her to comfort her. She said 
the boy had gone to another lodge to make his 
mother know sorrow. 

When day walked, the father and mother went 
among all the lodges asking for their son. Nobody 
had seen him. They wept much. They went back 
to their lodge and wept for many days. He was 
their only child. They were too old to have any 
more. 

One night when water was falling from her eyes she 
heard a voice. It said "Hin! Hin! You said to me, 
'Two Faces take that one.’ Hin! Hin!” The voice 
said this often. Her ears heard the jingling sound. 

"My man,” she called, "I fear a ghost has taken 
our son.” 

"Of course. You gave him to a ghost! You 
should be punished.” Then she screamed louder 
than her bad child had screamed. So the next 
time after the sun had gone to bed she went outside. 
She said to her man, "I will catch Two Faces by the 
leg. When I call, you come out to help me. We 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


95 


shall get our son out of the big ear of Two Faces. 
I will wait by the pile of wood.” 

Soon she saw a monster coming along. He was 
taller than the lodge poles. He made a noise like 
all the animals when he walked. 

She knew who it was! After a 
time he leaned over and looked 
into the smoke hole. Then she 
seized one leg. She called to her 
man. He came out. They took 
knives and cut the legs of Two 
Faces in many places. Then they 
took ropes made of buffalo hair 
and nettle lariats. They tied 
Two Faces so he could not move, 
him till day walked the land again. 

He was very ugly. The day showed him to them. 
He was covered with long hair. Only his two faces 
had no hair on them. Then they took their knives. 
They split open one ear. The boy was not there. 
They split open the other ear. There was their 

child. He was very lean. He could not speak. 

He had long hair on him. Only his head and face 
were smooth. 



Two Faces 
They stood near 


96 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


The father and mother then laid Two Faces on 
the woodpile and burned him up. Many things 
flew out of the fire: bags for beads or water or food; 
porcupine quills; feathers; arrows; birds; pipes; 
war clubs; hatchets; flints; stones to make knives 
sharp; necklaces of tuki shells; hide scrapers; whips; 
and all kinds of beads. 

The father and mother knew that their son would 
soon have become a Two Faces. He did not live 
long. 

That is all there is about it. 


CHAPTER VI 



I have much meat in my belt so I 


\ HIS story is not a pleasant one 
to think of for I am alone. But 
my mother says there is no Two 
Faces. The Teton people believe 
this. 


eat when it is sun high. I go to the top of a high 
bluff below where the buffaloes went into the river. 
I look out across the water. Away below like a log 
I see the canoe. It is tossed about but the Big Voice 
seems to keep it from turning over. I like better the 
skin boat of the Ma-has. I do not watch them all the 
time. I climb trees and look at the nests of the blue- 
jay and the robin. I do not touch the eggs with my 
hands. It is only with my eyes that I touch them. 
They are very pretty. I like to see the soft down 
all about the zhinga-zhinga birds. Then I gather 
the red columbine blossoms. It is very peaceful 
here. 

The sun walks along across the sky. I fear my 
97 


98 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


two friends will not get across till the dusk, the 
face-hidden-in-darkness, comes upon us. The Big 
Voice cannot come back to me after it is dark. I 
begin to think of Two Faces. I often look behind 
me to see if the little ghost or the ghost of Elder 
Sister is following. I could not see them if they 
did follow. They might steal my food. 

After a time I know I must stay here alone an- 
other night. I weep. Then I look out across the 
river far below for the canoe. I strain my eyes. 
I cannot see it. I look at all the black specks, the 
dead animals, the logs. After a long time I find it. 
But the canoe is having trouble. It turns around 
and around. I think it is in a whirlpool ! Soon I see 
it thrown far out. It turns over. I see Big Voice 
and Younger Sister go into the water. But they 
are near the shore. If the beings below the water 
do not suck them down they may swim ashore. 
Then the face-hidden-in-darkness covers all the land 
and the water, so I am left alone — alone with my 
knife. 

I think I do not wish to sleep in the cave again. 
The nights are warm and I see by the sky that no 
rain will fall. I am below the cave on the side 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


.99 


towards my people. I shall sleep in a tree to-night. 
When I looked at the nests I saw a good place to 
tie the robe as I did before. I feel sure nothing 
will get me there. I am sure there is no Two Faces, 
and I wonder about the ghost that took my robe 
before. Maybe some woman was left there alone 
and grew afraid of me. Some animal or other 
enemy might have killed her man. If she were like 
Younger Sister she would have so much numpa , 
the fear, in her heart that she would have no head. 
My gourd is full of water and I have the bag, the 
knife and my robe. I crawl up into my tree. The 
soft wind talks in the oak branches. It sings the 
children’s play song. This makes sorrow come to 
me. I am so far away from the others of my people. 
The soft wind makes me think that I can almost 
reach out and put my arms around the little girls. 
But I do not try. I do not wish to fall down and 
break my leg bones. 

The night is dark. The moon has gone on a far 
distant trail. She will not come back till just before 
the day lies pale upon the hills. Then she will look 
a little sharp look upon us like a buffalo horn and go 
away again. The stars fill the sky. I wonder which 


100 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


one is my grandmother. I think my grandfather 
is still lonely that she is gone. He often looks at 
the night sky; he stands alone. Many say she 
comes and speaks to him. He never took another 
squaw as Little Horn will do when I get back with 
Younger Sister. My grandfather says only a few 
people have the Great Look in their faces for each 
other. But he is happy when he looks at my father 
and mother. He tells me long tales about them. 
He says he once went to the Yanktonais and when 
he came back my mother was talking to the Council 
of the Seven, the ones who rule our people! Never 
do women talk! But he found that she had done a 
very brave deed. I try to think of the long tale, 
when I find I am too sleepy. The night wind says, 
“Soo-soo!” The river water complains. The birds 
peep crossly if their mother’s feet get on them or 
if one of the other little ones lies too close. My 
sore places still cause me pain but still I forget it. 
I am very sleep hungry. 

After a while I am awake. The night is still very 
black. It is full of chill for my sore bones. In 
front of me I see a great shape and two eyes! I can 
think of nothing but Two Faces! If he tosses me 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


101 


into his ear I think I can cut my way out with my 
good knife! I do not know what I do but I hold the 
knife so it sticks out toward the great shape. I 
stop to think I am almost glad Younger Sister is 
not with me for she would cry out or cover her head 
with her robe and act silly. Even with Two Faces 
staring at me I almost laugh to think of how Big 
Voice will drag her along if any danger comes and 
she tries to act that way. He will drag her by the 
hair if she is too bad. I hope her head is getting 
better. 

Just then I see the two eyes coming straight at 
me. My blood gets to playing a tom-tom in my 
temples. The next thing I know is that it has 
jumped at me; that my knife is gone. Below me is 
a dark shadow. Then I roll in my robe and cover 
my head. I hope it will not come back to cut me 
with the knife. I am not sleep hungry any longer. 
I wish the sun would come up the other side of the 
river. I want the day. The night time is good when 
one is in a lodge with a father and mother. I think 
day will never come walking the land on moccasins 
that bring sunshine! I tremble and my teeth rattle 
like beads on a deer sinew. I keep my head covered. 


102 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


Sometimes I peep out a little. I see nothing. I 
do not dare let my eyes talk to the shape below me. 
When day lies pale upon the hills and river he may 
jump at me again. At last I see the little flames of 
the sun streaking the sky on the far hill tops across 
the river. It is good to see the flames. I watch for 
the whole sun. It hurts my eyes. I close them 
waiting, waiting for I know not what. I think Two 
Faces goes away when night takes the trail. I am 
not sure. The Teton man did not say. I hope this 
is so. My father goes alone and thinks hard and 
what he wants comes true. I try very hard. 

After as long as it takes for a zhinga-zhinga to be 
as tall as high grass I am brave enough to let my 
eyes speak to the earth under my tree. Then I am 
angry at myself! Why did I not know? There 
lies a dead wild-cat! In his heart is my sharp knife! 
I think much about this. I shall not let Two Faces 
and other ghosts go into my head tipi to camp any 
more. It makes me do foolish things. My father 
and mother told me there was no Two Faces. But 
I have to cross the water now to join my friends. 
It would be easier to go on alone. They think I 
will come so I must come. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


103 


I get down from the tree and take out my knife. 
I clean it in the earth. I cut off some claws from the 
wildcat and put them in the pouch. When I get 
back to the circle of tipis of the Ma-has I shall string 
them on a deer sinew and hang them around my 
neck as a brave does. I wonder if my moccasins 



will ever get there? I look down at these moccasins. 
They need mending. I cannot walk well in them. 
When I get across the river I will rest and mend 
them. 

I go to the water and bathe. Then I lie on my 
back in the warm sunshine and eat my meat before 
I put the garments on again. The knife rests close 


104 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


to me all the time. It is my heart friend. It has 
slept in the heart of a wildcat to save my life. 

I put my garment and moccasins on. My eyes 
get no food that they would eat. They want a 
canoe with Big Voice in it for their food. I wait. 
After a time it is in my head to go on. I fear the 
Big Voice was drowned, or that he lost his canoe. 
I must not wait any longer. I cannot cross the river 
alone. I will go back a few moccasin tracks and give 
one look to the cave which was one night a good 
friend. It is the one where the hides are. I think it 
may not be good to do this but I go. I may meet 
some animal that will kill me. Why I do not start 
right on toward-the-heat I do not know. I go 
back. — All is still. Only buzzards clamor and eat. 
It smells so bad here I have no wish to stay. All 
about are the spoiling buffaloes. It makes my 
heart sick. It is very desolate. Far across on the 
ridge of hills I see a few buffaloes straggling along. 
They are the few that escaped across the river. 
I see they have no leader. If a band of timber wolves 
should get on their trail, I would soon see bleaching 
skulls and bones. Then I wonder where is my old 
friend that tossed me over on his horns and made 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


105 


me go faster than my moccasins could go. It is in 
my head that he was killed. I have pity for him. 
He was a brave old leader. He had had many sor- 
rows and had lived long. I wish he could have lived 
to lead his herd to peaceful green prairie grass. — 
Then I think I see a dead buffalo move! I run 
close, taking care that my knife is ready to speak. 
What do I see? Old Leader is in a hole! He is 
caught in strong grape vines. He is hungry but he 
cannot get up. Then I say, “I shall help thee. 
After that thou wilt again be my friend.” I know 
it is foolish to cross the river. If I stay on this side 
and go on toward-the-heat I shall one day walk into 
the camp of my people. Those who lie on the hills 
about the camp will see me coming and make the 
sign. Then my father and mother will come out 
to meet me and all my troubles will be over. But 
when I tell them I left poor Younger Sister on the 
other side alone they will think I had a faint heart. 
No, I must go over to her. I sent her over because 
I feared a ghost and Two Faces. She went because 
I sent her. So I must go over to find her. 

I take out the nettle lariat I find in the pack she 
gave me. Then I take off all my garments and put 


106 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


them in the pack and wrap the robe about them 
tightly so the water cannot get in. I tie this on the 
buffalo’s back. He tries to paw and bellow but he 
is held by my good friends, the grape vines. I wear 
only my belt. On it is the knife case. I must keep 
this beside me for the buffalo may run away with 
my pack. I must have one friend left. Buffalo’s 
little eyes look wicked. His horns look sharp. 
But I do not have fear in my heart for him. I shall 
cut the grape vines. When he knows he is free he 
will run to his bellowing friends across the water. 
He shall drag me. I can swim sometimes. The 
end of the nettle lariat is tied round my waist. 
Then I begin to cut away the grape vines with my 
knife. As soon as one leg is free Leader tries to get 
up. He jerks and paws and bellows and gets him- 
self caught worse than ever. “Easy, easy, now, 
friend,” I say. “Be quiet and I shall set thee free.” 
He has never before heard human voices except 
when they charged into the herd killing the fat 
young bulls. He is still a moment. His little eyes 
look at me. Then he kicks and tosses again. He 
thinks he is in a trap. But I cut some more vines. 
Again he is in such a hurry to get away he twists 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


107 


himself up again worse than at first. Again I tell 
him to cease being like the loon but he does not 
talk Ma-ha words. The vines are now almost all 
cut away. My knife has eaten much. I do not 
want its teeth to get dull. Leader strikes and paws 
as before. He is angry at me. I see this so I climb 
up into a tree and wait till he breaks the last vine 
himself. I no sooner get up beyond his reach than 
I hear a fierce bellow of rage. He charges upon the 
tree. The tree laughs. Twenty buffaloes could 
not break it! “Go on to thy friends,” I say. He 
stands still, his sides are heaving. He pants. It is 
in his head that this is a game he has never played. 
Walking on the moccasins of the air comes the 
sound of his friends. He turns round and then 
bellows back weakly. Then he starts toward the 
river, and I quickly drop between the limbs. I dare 
not climb for I may get my lariat caught. He 
shakes and stamps and snorts to get that pack from 
his back. But it sticks like a big burr. I am glad 
the Assinniboine man who came to our camp that 
time taught me how to tie a knot that would not 
come loose. My father said I was too little to learn. 
So the Assinniboine man showed me one night when 


108 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


we played the litter (cat's cradle) with the deer 
sinew. I am glad I know. It is good to know 
many things. I shall learn to build a fire. The 
belly needs hot food. 

After a while Leader gets tired of shaking and 
stamping. It does no good. So on he starts. I 



Cat’s Cradle 


run very fast to keep up so the lariat will not make 
him look back and charge at me. Everything has 
gone wrong with him so he puts his head down and 
plunges into the river. I go in, too. He swims 
slowly. I swim, too, but after we get out into the 
current — 0, how it pulls us down toward-the-heat ! 
My buffalo fights it but it is too strong for him so 
he floats much and I go on like a leaf. I pull him 
down, too, but he does not know what does it. The 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


109 


water helps me. It is very hard to get across the 
middle of the stream. I am growing very tired. 
But I must not give up now or everything will be 
lost. I see a big log coming towards us. If it hits 
me I shall be killed. It will flop around, duck under 
and then come back all safe again. I have seen them 
do that many times. It comes closer and closer. 
I try to swim hard. So does Leader. If he would 
come back to me, the log would float by. But he 
hurries on. My strength is now like the hair of a 
zhinga-zhinga. I know I shall die soon. It is almost 
over. Here comes the log. It is going to hit the 
nettle lariat. That will draw us both under the 
current. I think I shall close my eyes. Then the 
log comes along. It does not hurt me at all. It 
just pushes the lariat further on down the stream 
nearer to my people. So I put my hands on the log. 
If I crawl under I shall catch my lariat. If I try 
to crawl over I may upset it. But I am getting so 
tired I know I shall die anyhow, so with all my 
little strength I climb up. I hug the log with my 
arms and my legs. After what seems a long time, 
I find myself lying face down on the log, resting, my 
arms and legs still hugging it. The buffalo is pulling 


no 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


the lariat very taut. He does not know what this 
strange creature following him can be. He fears. 
I know it. 0, so long a time we fight the monsters 
that live under the water! I do not know at what 
time the log will turn over and spill me out, or 
twist up my lariat so I shall have to cut it. But 
I am glad when I see we are across the middle of 
the stream. I have rested much on my good friend’s 
back. I think I can swim again if I have to. I am 
beginning to feel of big heart again when below us 
I see the water going round and round! It is where 
the Big Voice and Younger Sister had trouble. 
I think very fast but before I think much I feel my 
log turning round till I am dizzy. I hold on tight. 
We go under. I hold my breath till I am sure I 
shall die. Then suddenly my log is thrown very 
hard. I do not know what happens for a little time, 
but I find myself riding on top of the log in swift- 
flowing but quiet water. We are pulling so hard at 
the poor old buffalo that I cut the lariat with my 
knife. I have just time to put it back quickly in its 
case when splash! Over goes my log. It hits me 
hard. I am thrown far out toward the shore in water 
where the current is so slow that even I can swim 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


111 


against it. I feel weak and very dizzy but I am 
sure I can get to that shore before I die again. I 
shut my little teeth together hard. I swim as hard 
as I can. After a long time I find I can stand up 
in the water. I take two steps and get on the sandy 
bank. Then I fall down. I can not think now. 
I am very tired. . . . 

When I open my eyes the thought that comes to 
me is that I have crossed water; that no ghost will 
follow me. Then I stand up. My knife is still 
in my belt but I have on no garments. The sun 
has been shining on me to make me warm but 
when night comes on I shall want a robe or a gar- 
ment to wear. I am not a young wolf with thick 
fur. I look about for my buffalo friend. But he 
is nowhere in sight. I am almost sure that he was 
not drowned. He may be roving over the prairie 
eating grass and scaring all his brother buffaloes 
with the big pack which he carries. If it were our 
people they would say “It is a mystery buffalo.” 
Then they would make many songs about him. I 
do not think the buffalo people will do this. They 
will run away from him till he rolls over and tears 
my pack loose from his back. My heart is sad 


112 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


that I make trouble for my good friend the buffalo. 
He carried me across the water. 

Younger Sister should be somewhere near, look- 
ing for me if she is alive. I know she would stand 
on the hills from morning time till the sun had 



gone to the underworld to see if I tried to swim 
the river. No! She would know I have too good a 
head to try to do that. And she will never think 
of the buffalo and the log. I think now that the 
Wa-kon-dah led me to the buffalo. That was why 
I went back to the cave to look, though it smelled 
bad and was lonesome for my eyes. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 113 


I have slept enough. Younger Sister has either 
gone with the Big Voice and his squaw or she travels 
toward-the-heat. I do not wish to think she is 
traveling the white path across the sky. I shall 
climb up the slippery bank and look out over the 
far hills and the river. I may learn much. I hope 
I may see a robe, but few leave good robes behind 
for lonesome children who wander the prairie trails. 
The dusk will soon come upon me. I am glad that 
the warm weather is here but it is always good to 
have a robe even in the month in which the buffaloes 
find their mates. I do not know what moon we shall 
have when a new one comes. I have been long on 
the trail and I cannot tell. 

Now I have climbed up the steep bank. The 
vines helped me. My arm is healed now. The 
wrapping was torn away somewhere on my way 
across the big water. I did not see it but it is gone. 
From where I stand the moccasins of my eyes can 
travel far. They travel much. Away below on the 
other side of the river is much camp smoke. It is 
a large band of people cooking their evening meal. 
That makes me belly hungry and heart hungry. 
I look down at my empty belly and I see my friend 


114 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


the knife. The knife knows it is time to eat. But 
I wish to see much. The camp is two sleeps toward 
my people, I think. I cannot see the camp for the 
tipis are on the far side of a hill. But I see their 
camp smoke. — I wonder if it is my people, the 
Ma-has? 

My father and mother may be there! I stretch 
out my arms! I want them! I cannot stay over 
here! I must jump across the water or fly as an 
eagle flies till I rest in their tipi! I weep and feel 
pain in my throat. But after a time I think I must 
not do this. I must be of brave heart. Water in the 
eyes will not get me to them. — I do not know. — 
It may be I shall never see them again. I am sad 
for myself. More water comes to my eyes. It is of 
no use to go on. I have no garments. I have no 
robe. It will soon be dark and I have no food. I 
am alone. Farther down the stream I see a clump 
of trees. I think I shall go down there and cover 
my body with sand and dirt. Then I shall close my 
eyes and die. Nobody will know what has become 
of poor little Tun-in-gi-na out here alone on the 
prairie! The other tribes will not care. Few but 
my father and mother of my own tribe will care. — 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


115 


I weep again very bitterly. I think that everything 
is sad. I know that while my eyes search the trail 
that is far distant, I should not forget to look at 
the home trail. But I am so sorry for myself, this 
poor little child all alone here, that I start to run. 
If I must die I shall waste no time. So I run. Then 
my ears hear something! It is the footstep of 
something running behind me. The face is now 
hidden in darkness. It is the dusk. I cannot tell 
what follows me. I have so much numpa , the fear, 
in my heart that I forget all about going on the long 
trail to the land of ghosts and shadows. I run 
like the deer. The clump of trees seems to be run- 
ning away from me. I do not get any nearer though 
I have run till I am almost out of breath. But I do 
not hear anything on my trail any more. It is too 
dark for him to follow me and I run very fast. I 
make a sharp turn and run on. I shall lose him! 
Just then I fall. My foot is in the hole of some 
animal. I hear something snap. A great pain goes 
all over me like an arrow. Then I know I am start- 
ing on the long trail. I try to keep my eyes open 
but something blacker than the night comes into 
my head. A-ga-geth! (good-bye). 


CHAPTER VII 



^ see this I close my eyes 
again. Surely I shall die now. 
Again I look at my finger- 


WONDER how 
many sleeps it is 
since I fell and 
broke my leg bone? 
Nothing of it is in 
my head. My knife 
is gone. When I 


nails. Yes, they are long. It cannot be that I 
am dead. It is many sleeps since I fell and I am 
still alive! But how did I get where I am? I am 
not out alone on the prairie. I am lying on a bed of 
leaves in a place hollowed out of the side of a hill. 
Somebody has made a shelter of branches over me 
and a buffalo robe is placed over them to keep out the 
rain or to keep the sun from shining in my eyes. But 
it shines on my little bare body now and is good to 
the skin. What is this on my leg? Ahai ! Some good 


116 



THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


117 


friend has set it and bound it up with willow sap- 
lings. But I am so tired I fall asleep again. As I do 
so I hear crickets chirp, hear the father and mother 
birds calling to their little ones who have now 
learned to fly. The moon-in-which-they-plant is 
past. I can tell that now. Then I sleep. I have 
dreams. I see the tipi of my father. I can tell it 
by the things painted on its sides. But my father 
is not there. He sits on the hills and mourns. I 
dream much. Then I awake. To my ears on the 
moccasins of the air comes a step. Then the sister 
of the step comes; and others and others. They 
come nearer and nearer. It must be my friend, 
the one who has bound up my broken leg. — It 
may not be a friend! What if it is an enemy who 
wishes my leg to heal so he can carry me home to 
his people to torture me? The sunshine grows like 
the breath of Cold Man. My blood is the water of 
the stream in winter. I have not seen him yet be- 
cause my leg will not let me move. 

While I am trembling in fear he stands before 
me! I do not scream but he looks at me strangely. 
His eyes ask questions and his mouth says “Ahai.” 
Then I know he has just found me. He is a Pawnee. 


118 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


My people call them the Pathin.* I can tell by the 
scalp lock that stands erect like a horn. They do 
not hate my people. We hated the Pathin once 
because they stole the ponies of the Ma-has. But 
my father and mother have many friends in that 
tribe, for it was when my mother went alone to 
them that she gained much mystery. Yet she says 
the Skidi band of the Pawnees wanted to have her 
burned alive because they said the Morning Star 
was angry! — It may be he is a Skidi! If he is he 
will take me to his people. They will feed me good 
food for many days. When I am fat and juicy they 
will make me go from lodge to lodge. They will 
tell me to beg for wood. They will tell me to beg 
for red paint and black paint. Then when the 
people have given me enough they will paint half 
my body black; they will paint half my body red. 
With the sticks of wood they will build a fire. Above 
it I shall be tied. 0, I close my eyes and put my 
hands — the non' -be zhinga my father loves so much — 
over my face. I cannot let my eyes look at the 
cruel Pawnee man any longer. His eyes are small 
and beady. He sees numpa, the fear, in my face 

* Pa'-thing. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


119 


so he laughs. I wonder if he laughs because he is a 
friend or because he would like to see his people 
torture me? It may be he is not of the Skidi band 
of the Pawnees. If he is not then he may be a good 
friend of my father and mother. All the Pawnees 
know them. That all happened in the long story 
the old ones still tell. — A new thought is in my 
head: I will make the sign of friendship. It can do 
no harm. So I make it. He laughs again but he 
raises his hand in answer. Then he asks what is 
the name of my tribe. I let silence speak to his 
eyes. This frightens him. He seizes his knife and 
looks all about him. I shake my head. Then he 
points to my leg all bound up. He asks me: “Then 
who did all of this? Surely no child alone did this.” 
Then he looks about and I know he says, “Yes, 
here are more moccasin tracks.” I tell him I do 
not know; that it happened while I slept. Then I 
see by his eyes that he understands. So I say, 
“Thou art a Pawnee.” He starts back! He cannot 
tell how so small a child should know his tribe. 
Then I open my mouth and say “Pit-a-le-shar-u.” 
At this he jumps up from where he has been squat- 
ting on his heels. From his mouth come many 


120 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


Pawnee words. But I do not know them. The 
word I said is the name of the friend of my father 
and mother. He saved my mother’s life when 
those of the Skidi band were burning her. So I 
motion that “ Pit-a-le-shar-u ” was a friend of my 
mother. A look like that in the eye of a brave 
when he talks of his bravest deed in war comes to 
the beady little eyes. So I know I am safe. He 
makes the sign, “I am the brother of Pit-a-le-shar-u. 
Thou art a child of the Ma-has.” So I start to put 
my arms about his neck when I hear a sound! Be- 
fore the Pawnee can look around he falls on his 
face and I see the red eyes of Younger Sister as she 
pulls the bloody knife from between his shoulders! 
I scream in horror. I speak the Ma-ha tongue very 
fast. The head of the Pawnee is in my lap. I pat 
his cheek and say words I have heard the med- 
icine men and women say to call one back to life. 
But he does not stir. Then I raise an angry fist 
at Younger Sister. I shake it at her. She stands 
with her bloody hands on her face. The knife has 
dropped at her feet. Then it is all in my head : She 
loves me. She thought the Pawnee was killing me! 
Poor Younger Sister! She is always wrong. This 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


121 


time she has killed a good friend. That is bad. 
Then his band must be near. They will miss him 
and come to look for him. They will not let me 
tell them straight about it. They will kill Younger 
Sister. It is so awful I weep. Younger Sister stands 
still with bloody hands over her eyes. Just then I 
feel a movement from the Pawnee man. Blood is 
still flowing from his back. I call to Younger Sister. 
She does not understand my tongue but she listens 
to the voice and takes her hands down. Then 
she begins to do wonderful things with grasses and 
herbs to stop the blood. She tears the fringe from 
her leather leggings. Soon she takes the robe that 
shelters us from the sun and runs away. I know 
she will soon come back with water inside it. While 
she is gone there is a council in my head tipi. First, 
I am ashamed that I wear no garments. I had 
not thought of it before. I pick off the bunches of 
grass and try to weave a little covering for myself, 
but the head of the half dead Pawnee is lying across 
my knees. He does not know I am ashamed. I 
wonder why Younger Sister stays so long? It may 
be the water is far away. Yet because I know now 
that it was Younger Sister who ran after me when 


122 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


I fell and then found me and cared for me and brought 
me here, it is in my head that she must have brought 
me to a place near the water. 

There lies my knife. It is too far away for me to 
reach. I hope the friends of the Pawnee do not 
come here to find him before Younger Sister comes 



back. She has no head to go away and not put the 
knife back in her belt! — I wonder whose knife she 
will call it now — her knife or my knife? I think 
it is my knife but I shall wait to see what her motions 
say. The bow the Pawnee held in his hand dropped 
near to where the knife lies. Maybe they will be 
friends. — Why does not Younger Sister come back? 
I open the shirt of the Pawnee. Yes, his heart 
beats but it seems to me to be like the heart of a 
young bird with no feathers. I like the good Pawnee. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


123 


I do not want him to go on the path across the sky 
above. And then after I have crossed water to get 
away from a ghost, I do not wish to have one across 
my knees. 

I am so sleep hungry again! I cannot sit up 
much longer. I must try. I must be brave. But 
that black night is coming again. It comes in 
front of my eyes. I am like the rabbit when the 
back of his neck is hit. I go to the dead again. 
If I ask them questions while I am there and they 
answer me, then I shall not come back. I am so 
weary I hope they will speak to me. 

After time has gone on swift moccasins I open 
my eyes. I return. The dusk, the face-hidden-in- 
darkness, has come upon me but when I look for 
my wounded Pawnee I see he is gone! It is not 
light enough to know what the tracks may tell my 
eyes. I want so much to walk I do not show dig- 
nity. I grow angry and jerk my broken leg suddenly 
as a rider throws a lariat softly then draws it in 
with a jerk. I am punished. Arrow pains shoot 
through me again and I lie back very hot. Water 
is all over my face and there is a pain inside my 
belt. I lie still till some of the pain takes the trail. 


124 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


Then I let my head work. The Pawnee’s friends 
did not take him. They would have killed me or 
would have taken me along. I think he lost too 
much blood to walk away alone. Now, I have a 
thought! But I must lie still till morning walks 
or till Younger Sister returns. The moon is shining 
again. She looks in my face. After a while I see a 
long shadow fall across the grass not far away. 
Then another comes beside it. Again another 
skulking figure passes. Fear chills me again! The 
wolves! 0 how I fear they will crack my poor little 
bones with their long white teeth! If I could only 
reach the knife! I must hitch myself along a little 
at a time till I can reach it. It is not hard now that 
the Pawnee man’s head is not across my knees. 
At last I reach it. I feel strong. I can fight now. 
Maybe the wolves will get me yet but I shall let 
the knife talk to their insides first! — But I get no 
chance to use it. In the moonlight with her face 
talking to her moccasins I see Younger Sister. She 
murmurs Assinniboine words. She knows I can- 
not understand. But Younger Sister is weak. She 
feels better that she has talked. I let her be foolish. 
My head is stronger. That is enough. She takes 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 125 


the knife and sits in front of me. The shadows slink 
away. I sleep. 

For many sleeps we stay here. Younger Sister 
leaves me often. I know. I can tell by the silly 
way she laughs and lets her face grow like the sun- 
set that she is taking care of the Pawnee somewhere 
near. I wonder if his people did not look for him? 
It may be he was alone. Ahai ! Now, it is all clear 
in my head: She put the medicine that makes the 
Great Look come to the face, on the Pawnee man! 
So she will have him for her man! I do not like 
this! I saved her for Little Horn.— But my mother 
says it is better to bead moccasins than to choose a 
man for a squaw. If you are careful the beads are 
put on right. But the man is never right. — So 
Younger Sister has forgotten the other Assinniboine 
brave who pursued her with the husband of Elder 
Sister? Her love is not strong like the turtle heart. 
It is not like that of my father and mother. And 
my grandfather knew it too. He never led another 
squaw to his tipi when my grandmother left him to 
go on the long trail alone. — No, the Assinniboine 
sister is not strong. — But I see in her face signs 
that her heart is glad so I shall not ask questions. 


126 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


She is good to me. She brings me food. Sometimes 
it is hot. I am growing stronger now and I let my 
eyes and ears act as scouts. They tell me she brings 
the food in a Pawnee cooking pot. My mother has 
one like it. It was given to her by Star Eyes! Ahai, 
Younger Sister! I know. He had a little camp by 



a streamlet. He had cooking pots and robes! That 
is where you go so often. I see your braids are al- 
ways glossy now. You have found the red paint 
weed so your cheeks are always stained that you may 
be beautiful before him. 

So I am like a dark rain cloud. But I shall stand 
up! She lets me. I do not wish to stand long. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


127 


I sit down. After a time I stand again. When the 
sun walks again I shall walk with him. Then the 
Assinniboine woman brings me a robe such as I 
have never before seen. It has much wonderful 
blue like the sky in it; it has red and yellow like 
the trees in the time when leaves fall; it has green 
like the grass and like the green stone. It is very 
thin but the hot days are here so I need no heavy 
robe. Younger Sister has brought the other robe 
for a shelter again. 

Now the day is here when I shall walk. I lean 
on Younger Sister and together we go far enough 
so I let my eyes rest on the tipi of the Pawnee. It 
is a big, clean tipi! I clap my hands! But I cannot 
walk so far. I must go back to my shelter. (I say 
this in the silent language.) Then Younger Sister 
laughs and picks me up in her arms and carries me 
to the other tipi. There lies my Pawnee friend. 
His little beady eyes smile. He motions me to the 
seat where the guest goes. Younger Sister takes 
the place where the squaw sits. Then they laugh 
and hang their heads and act like the foolish bird, 
the loon. But I am glad they are happy. He can 
take her to his people. I do not think the Ma-has 


128 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


would like her. It is good that I shall have no more 
trouble to get a lodge for her. 

There are many things in the tipi new to me so 
I let my eyes eat all the food they want. It is in 
my head that these two will stay here till it grows 
time to join the Pawnees on their summer buffalo 
hunt. Then they will not want to take me to my 
people. So I shall get strong and go on my way 
alone when I am ready. My leg is almost well. 

Ten sleeps have passed. The Pawnee is again 
strong. I do not tell them I am to start on my 
journey toward-the-heat, yet in the time that is near 
I shall let my moccasins go free. The Pawnee has let 
Younger Sister use his awl and sinews to make my 
moccasins. I am glad of this. I wear on'y the thin 
robe made of many colors. It was bought of the 
people whose faces are of the color of the inner layer 
of the corn husk. The Pawnee gave a buffalo hide 
for it. 

If I am to travel alone I must have the knife. 
Younger Sister does not need it. She has a man to 
hunt for her now. It is good to have a man to hunt 
for a squaw. I know. I like to hunt for myself 
but I learned when I was alone that when I grow 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


129 


tired I want my father. When I am older I shall 
listen to the flute call of a brave. Then I shall have 
my own tipi. My man shall hunt. He shall make 
stone axes and stone wedges. I shall have the best 
bowls of wood in the tribe for my man shall make 
them. And when my man goes out people will say, 
“What a good squaw he has,” for all the bead work 
shall be neatly done; his hides shall be well tanned; 
his food shall taste good to the mouth. But if I do 
not start on the home trail soon the Ma-has may 
all be dead or gone to a far hunting ground so I 
must no longer sit thinking of the time-to-come. 
I have much head work for the time-that-is. 

The Pawnee man watches me. It is in my head 
that he knows my thoughts. I know his; he wants 
to take his new squaw to his own people because it 
is almost time for the summer buffalo hunt. A 
strong brave always wants to join in that. Then 
he thinks, “But what shall we do with the little 
Ma-ha? We know she will not go with us to our 
people. I must return there because I have a mes- 
sage for the chief.” Then he looks at Younger 
Sister with a smile. The smile says, “Of course 
she will go with me even if the little Ma-ha dies alone 


130 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


on the prairie.” I know it too. But my heart is 
not sad that this is so. If I had a man I would not 
let the child of another people take me from him. 
Only my father and mother could call me away. 
And then it would be because the Sick Man had 
them. They would have no right to call me away 
from my man for any other reason. All my people 
believe this. 

But if I say to them, “I go toward-the-heat that 
I may join my people,” the Pawnee will say, “It 
is not safe to go alone. Your people would say the 
blood of the brother of Pit-al-e-shar-u had grown 
thin if he let a zhinga-zhinga of the Ma-has take 
the trail alone. No, — thou goest with my Assin- 
niboine and me. After the hunt is over my people 
may send me as a messenger to the Ma-has with 
their child.” 

So I play much alone where the buffalo berries 
grow. I gather them and dry them. I kill birds 
and dry their meat. I get all things ready to start 
away like a coyote; like a ghost. Sometimes I take 
the knife to use in the daytime. If Younger Sister 
does not ask for it I let it sleep beside me. I shall 
be careful that it sleeps beside me when I take the 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


131 


trail alone. It is a good friend. I wish to have a 
bag with an awl and sinews and pieces of leather 
to mend moccasins. But I cannot take the one my 
two friends have. They need it. — Then I wonder 
where Old Leader is! He has my garments, my sew- 
ing bag and everything in the pack I tied on his 
back. I wish he would bring them back to me. 

The night is here. I think I feel black hands all 
about me. I hear Younger Sister and the Pawnee 
breathe. The sound comes to my ears on air moc- 
casins. It tells me they sleep. Over on the other 
side of the hill is my pack. I shall need it on the 
home trail. If their eyes had not been so busy 
saying “My squaw” and “My brave” to each 
other, my two friends would have seen that I was 
getting ready for a long walk. What my father says 
is true: many worms crawl away because the mole 
has no eyes. 

Wa-oo! How black the night is. It is full of 
stillness. The sun must have gone to a war dance 
away very far in the underworld. The moon, too, 
is gone. — But I must walk out into that thick dark- 
ness. It is soft like the down on the swan. I can 
almost pat it with my non' -be zhinga, my little hands. 


132 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 

0, my father! “Non' -be zhinga ” — I wish my ears 
could hear him say it now! Let me listen very hard: 
No, I hear only an owl's hoot. He will get many 
mice tonight. There are many field mice on the 
hills here. They eat the wild oats that grow. — 
Why do I not make my moccasins take the trail? 
In the dark I let my eyes walk to where my friends 
sleep. I should like to touch their hands or pat 
their faces again. They have been very good to me. 
But I must not. It would waken them. After that 
they would watch me. So in my heart I say “a-ga- 
geth” and go out into the night. I wear the knife. 
We are taught not to steal. I think the knife is 
mine. I carried it across the river. I shall ask my 
father if I am a thief. If he says I am then I will 
get my father to send a messenger to the people 
of my Pawnee friend. He may take the knife back. 
But I must get home to the circle of tipis of my 
people first. If I do not do this, how I can ask my 
father? 

I say, “Come, little moccasins, run fast." They 
obey me. Soon I am on the other side of the hill. 
I pull out a big stone from a hole in the side of the 
hill. I reach in to get my pack. I am always losing 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


133 


things. Where is my pack? The hole is big: I 
will reach around farther in the corner. — It is gone! 
The water comes to my eyes. I lie down on the 
earth. I weep. But soon I know I must be brave. 
I must travel without a pack. So I arise and take 
the trail for the south, toward-the-heat for I can 
tell by the signs that my people will soon be on the 
summer meat hunt. I must get there before they 
leave. Nobody stays behind but the very old ones 
who cannot keep up — or someone who is in the hands 
of the Sick Man. And when roving bands of other 
people come they sometimes kill all those left be- 
hind. Faster, 0, my moccasins! 

After a long time away off on the side where my 
left hand is, I see the sky grow lighter. Then I 
know the chief of the sky is going to get up. But 
he will stretch himself awhile first. He will shake 
his red robe, too. Yes, faint streaks of light come, 
then many colored clouds, the monx-pi '. Far out and 
wide they roll. My eyes see so much I listen to see 
if the ears will get no food. I do not see how the 
sky can have a war dance so silent. It is like the 
spirits of departed warriors when they have their war 
dance in the night sky away up toward the Star- 


134 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


That-Moves-Not, when leaves begin to fall and the 
frost spirits come. 

When the day walks a little nearer I must hide 
in the grass. It is like the Pawnee to hunt for me. 
Besides I am sleep hungry. But I shall walk on 
yet a while. I am on a higher ridge than they are. 
I planned my trail many days ago. I shall follow 
the ridge near the river; then if I see any of my 
people on the other side I can signal to them. It is 
in my heart that the camp fires I saw long ago 
were those of a band of Ma-has going to seek me 
among the Yanktonais. I hope they did not kill 
Kage! I wish Kage would come from the grass now 
and say with his eyes, “ Little Sister, I will take thee 
to thy people.” But it is wren chatter to think this 
even inside my head. 

I wonder what took my pack? Maybe it was an 
animal. Maybe it was the Pawnee man or Younger 
Sister. If they did it they were foolish. I have been 
much alone. I am strong. I can travel without 
a pack if I have a good knife. 

It grows warm. The sun bounds up at once. 
He is big and bright. If I look at him it makes 
brown spots on the grass. I shall find a shady place. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 135 


Then I shall lie down to sleep. There is no water 
nearer than the river. I miss my pack. I had 
everything I needed in that pack. But I am very 
sleep hungry. My moccasins do not want to move. 



They beg to rest. On the hillside is a big oak tree. 
It is larger than my father’s tipi. I shall rest here. — 
Wa-oo, — here come my dream friends! 

It is pleasant to lie like this. Sometimes I close 
my eyes; sometimes I open them and look up and 



136 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


see the hot, blue sky peeping down between the 
branches of the big spreading green tipi above me. 
The birds hop and twitter and peck at worms. They 
have no eyes for me and I have been quiet for so 
long. After a time my eyes do not want to open 
again. I hold up my hand to the dream friends. 
I sleep a long time. 

It is late. The sun has walked across the sky and 
he looks with hot eyes into my face. I turn over 
and open my eyes. My body is behind the tree 
but my head is farther out so I see something that 
makes me lie close and still: a band of red men, 
not my own people! They are traveling toward 
the bottom of the valley for they must camp near 
water. I hope they will not see me. But they are 
also going toward-the-heat. That will make me 
travel on slow moccasins if I keep behind them 
and if I stay here too long, the Pawnee and his 
squaw may find me. I think it is strange that they 
have not already found my trail! No! Now I know: 
they saw the strange tribe coming. They hid. 
It is all in my head now. If I had not been sleep 
hungry or stupid like the owl I should have known 
at once. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


137 


I watch the strange tribe move on. It is a small 
hunting party but they have young men posted on 
the hill-tops to be the eyes of the people. The 
tall one that will see this tree looks all about. I 
hope he will not see my head sticking out beyond. 
If he does I think I am so far away he will think it 
is only a stone or a piece of wood. I lie very still. 
I do not move when I see him stop and let his eyes 
talk hard at my tree. I know he sees something 
under it. I hope he will go on. But he stands 
still. The sun is broiling my back. If he stands 
there much longer my rib bones next to the back 
bone will be cooked. He stands longer. After a 
little time has gone on slow moccasins he moves on. 
I breathe better but I must not turn yet. Soon he 
looks back. I see the other runners are watching him. 
He sees it, too, so he comes towards me! I shall not 
move. I shall play I am dead. Maybe I can fool 
him. No, it is wren chatter to say it. Who can 
fool a scout? He must be the eyes of the people. 


CHAPTER VIII 


IE others pass on. They know he 
will let them know what is under 
the tree. — Nearer he comes. He 
comes so close I know he is not of 
my people. He looks like some- 
one I know. Closer he comes. 
It is very hard to lie still any longer! It is Kage! 
He sees me, too! I can tell it by the glad look on 
his face like the sunshine falling on the prairie. 
But he makes a sign with his mouth that I must 
not move. He comes to the tree, kicks close to my 
head, as if it were a rock, then walks away to the 
trail again. My sad eyes follow him till he has 
gone where their moccasins cannot go. — My Kage! 
The sun goes to the underworld, the face-is-hidden- 
in-darkness, the little stars come out in the dark 
sky and I sit up and weep. I wonder if he will 
come back to me? I think he will do so for he did 
not betray me to his people. — I am belly hungry 
and my throat is sore for water. I am glad to go 
on the path of ghosts and shadows. It is too hard 
138 



THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 139 


to walk any more. I cannot rise. I hope Kage 
will come back and build the four days’ fire on my 
grave. Just now I feel a hand on my hot forehead 
and a gourd of water is put to my lips. My ears 
are glad. They hear a little low laugh like water in 
a stream with a rocky course and they hear the same 
murmuring of words that came to them when Kage 
wrapped me close in his robe on the cold night. It 
is my Kage! Now I shall not travel the white path 
across the sky. He brings me food — some fresh buf- 
falo meat — and as I eat it I wonder if it is the meat 
of some young friend of Old Leader. But even if it 
is I must eat it. 

I know Kage cannot stay long. His people will 
miss him. It is growing so dark I can barely see 
his sign talk. I tell him all I can of my story. I 
wish I had the walk of a whole day to make sign 
talk to him. I wish to know what he thought when 
he missed me. Now he puts his arms about me. 
He strokes my hair. Water falls from my eyes. 
My heart is lonesome to see my father and my 
mother. When Kage starts to leave me I cling to 
his arm as a little puppy clings. Then Kage laughs 
and says pretty Yanktonai words to me and pats 


140 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


my head. He motions for me to sleep, for he is 
to watch on the hills till the middle of the darkness. 
I do not know what plan he has for me but I lie 
down quietly for I do not have to think now. I 
shall let my little head rest, too. The meat and the 
water have made me strong hearted. I shall sleep. 
Soft summer night winds creep around me like the 
silk weed blowing; the crickets chirp and some 
sleepy little birds quarrel in their bed above me, 
then settle down to quiet dreams again. I am almost 
happy now. If I could only lie down in my father’s 
tipi and hear the happy words my father and mother 
would say when I am with my people again! But 
I sleep. Once I awaken and find that Kage is killing 
a coyote that stole up to eat my meat. Then I 
sleep again. Kage will take care of me! 

When I awaken it is bright day. Kage is gone! 
I look all about for him. He has left no trail! I 
climb up into the tree top and let my eyes walk 
over the land and the river far toward-the-heat. 
How big and broad the water is! It is so hard to 
cross. My people live on the other bank. So it is 
in my head that I was foolish to cross over to keep 
a ghost from following! Yet if I had not come I 



“He strokes my hair” 













THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


141 


would not have seen Kage. His face is good. My 
heart is glad that my hungry eyes have had the 
look food again. 

Away, toward where the heat comes from I see 
the Yanktonai band traveling on. They have 
poles tied to ponies and dogs to carry their food 
and shelter. Scattered on the hills to guard the 
trail I see the sentries, “the eyes of the people,” 
the Ma-has call them. I sit up here in my tree for 
a long time. There is much food for my hungry 
eyes. For the belly we have many kinds of food. 
There is the plant we call “looks-like-tripe,” that 
grows on the prairies after the spring rains fall. 
It is good to the mouth if we cook it in fat. The 
marrow from a boiled bone is good belly food. 
Corn and meat boiled with the new shoots of the 
milkweed taste good. The wa-thske made of pounded 
corn mixed with buffalo marrow and honey, I like, 
too. But the best is when we kill all the biting bugs 
with smoke and drive them out of their tree. Then 
we eat the honey. It is good to the mouth. 

So my eyes have much food: there is the big 
water, there are the great stretches of prairie grass; 
on the river banks are many beautiful trees. I see 


142 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


small streams with willows along their edges like 
fringe on a moccasin leg. I see wild animals moving 
over the prairies. Many birds fly in the blue air. 
Again I look at the band of the Yanktonais. I 
see one scout stop. Then he lies down in the grass. 
To my eyes it is better food than the honey of the 
stinging bugs! It is Kage! My heart tells me it 



is Kage! He is coming back to help me. But my 
head tells me, “No.” If he tries to slip away they 
will only look for him. They will think he has 
broken his leg in a gopher hole or that the Sick Man 
has him. I need him so! I want Kage to come and 
get me! 

Now my eyes get good food! Kage is getting 
ready to hunt alone. We call it a'-bae when one 
man or one man with a few helpers hunts alone. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


143 


The Pawnee man was hunting in that way. — Kage 
has a good head! I know it now. He has planned 
this hunting that he may come back to me. My 
Kage is a great hero. When he is old I think he 
will be chief of his people. 

Now I climb down from my tree for he comes 
near. I run to him. He laughs. Then our hands 
speak much. He tells me he cannot stay long with 
me because his people will come back to look for 
him. When he knows I wish to cross the river his 
eyes wear the troubled look like the big eye of a 
little lake when I throw a stone in it. Then his 
hands ask who brought me across in a canoe. As 
our moccasins travel on side by side I talk much 
with my hands and tell the long tale of all that 
happened after I crawled out of his warm blanket 
and ran away to be swallowed up by the wet, cold 
mist. His hands and his voice speak no word. 
But his eyes say much. Then he puts me in the trail 
behind him and we go toward the river. 

Now I let my eyes eat. Kage is tall. His back is 
straight like the poplar tree. His body is strong as 
the oak tree. His legs and his arms are tough like 
hickory. He holds his head proudly like a great 


144 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


chief. There is a young brave in the tribe of my 
people who tries to look like a chief. He talks much 
of the brave deeds he has done. Sometimes the 
other young men laugh and make songs about this 
one. His name is Shage Duba, Four Hoofs. I want 
Kage to go to my people with me. He would show 
Shage Duba how to stand. He could show him 
how to act. I know Shage Duba would boast of 
great deeds he has done. I know that Kage would 
be silent. He has done many brave deeds, I know. 
I can see that it is so by the proud way he walks, 

but he would never say boasting words. Ahai! 

What does Kage? We have not spoken as we follow 
the trail. Now the sun is sinking lower and lower. 
Kage makes a motion to stop. I knew he would 
do this. We are near a small run. Maples and 
cottonwoods grow along its banks. It leads to the 
big water, the Ni-u-ta-che. I know we shall camp 
here tonight. So I hurry to gather the grass and 
twigs. Kage leaves me. He goes to get small game. 
I know why he looks just where he does. I, too, 
saw shu, the prairie chicken, as she went to 
her nest with her young ones that have grown 
old. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


145 


I wonder if the children of shu do as do the chil- 
dren of our people? When we have traveled over 
one hill of life then the old ones say we are old 
enough to know sorrow. They say of a boy “His 
mind has become white.” Then he goes alone. 
He stands still on a far, lonesome hill top. He puts 
clay on his head. Then he raises his arms to the 
sky. He calls the name of the Wa-kon-dah. He 
stands still for a long time. His arms are raised. 
Then the sun goes to sleep. The face-hidden-in- 
darkness comes on. A little time the red and purple 
flames light up the sky; then the robe of soft black- 
ness comes out and covers the boy and all the land. 
The trimming on the sky robe shows soon. Across 
it stretches the white path, the path of the dead. 
Many silver stars fringe the borders of the black 
robe. The crescent moon comes out. Yet the boy 
moves not. Only are his arms raised to the Wa- 
kon-dah. The night winds blow softly at first like 
the laughter of a zhinga-zhinga, then stronger like 
the cold voice of one who knows much pain, then 
they shriek like an angry squaw when she sees 
the enemy strike her man. The dust-smoke fills 
the air. It blows in the face of the boy. He still 


146 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


stands. His arms are raised to the Wa-kon-dah. 
The rain falls. It beats on the body and in the face 
of the boy. He does not feel it. He speaks with the 
Wa-kon-dah. When day comes he eats no food. 
His arms grow stiff and tired, but he still stands. 
Again the day. Again the night. For four day 
walks he stands. Then he goes to his own place, to 
the tipi of his father. He eats little food. No one 
speaks to him for the Wa-kon-dah has sent him a 
dream. In the dream is some animal which the 
Wa-kon-dah has sent him to help him in time of 
trouble. He must not tell this to any man but to 
some old man who has dreamed the same dream. 
I think much about this. Some maids “stand 
sleeping,” too. My people call it that. When I get 
back to my people I shall stand sleeping for I have 
known sorrow. — And so I wonder if the children 
of shu , the prairie chicken, do this way, too. — But 
I must get the fire built so Kage will know a good 
head is on my little shoulders when he comes back 
with one of the children of shu to cook and eat. 
I see he comes. A glad look is on his face. I take 
the dead bird from him and pull its feathers off. I 
clean it quickly by the stream. Then I put it on a 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


147 


stick and roast it before my fire. Kage lies down. 
He puts his hands under his head and laughs loud. 
I do not like to be laughed at so I let my lips stick 
out. Then he laughs again. After a while he asks 
who showed me how to build a fire. Then I tell 
him all about Younger Sister and the Pawnee man. 
He sits up and I can see by the look in his eyes that 
he likes to know the things I tell. — Then we eat 
our bird but Rage’s eyes go on a long trail. He is 
thinking. I do not like this so I go over to him and 
strike him. He laughs at this but he goes back to 
his thoughts. I wish Kage to see how old I am so 
I put all the things back in the pack. He looks 
pleased but his head is still busy. He asks more 
about the Assinniboine woman and her story. I 
tell it all. Then it comes to my head that he knows 
something about her people. But because he does 
not tell me, I ask no questions with my hands. Like 
a little dog I sit down near Kage and let my eyes 
talk to him. He looks into the fire as it dies. The 
fireflies come out and shine on the trees. The air 
grows cooler and a soft wind creeps about us like 
a stray dog in a camp. My ears are lonesome for 
the sound of ponies eating grass; for the stamp of 


148 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


their little hoofs. I am lonesome for the smell of 
the camp and for all its sounds. Before I know 
what I do I let my head fall on my hands and the 
salt water comes to my eyes. Kage grunts. But 
it is a kind grunt. He says kind Yanktonai words, 
then holds me in his arms and smooths my hair. 
At this I weep loudly — for he makes me more sad. 
When I do this he laughs. Then I am angry. I 
try to draw away but he says words that sound as 
if he says, “ Foolish child! Be still.” So I sit still 
and let my head fall on his shoulder. And I weep 
till I have no more water in my eyes. Kage is very 
good to me. 

Far off I hear the roaring of the Ni-u-ta-che. 
I wonder who floats down dead upon it now? I 
begin to feel sleep hungry once more. Kage fixes 
the robe and lies down to sleep. I crawl on his 
arm and he likes to have me for he pats me as I do 
my little dog. I am very happy. Over us is the 
big, wide, black night-sky with a few shining silver 
stars peeping at us. Crickets chirp, trees talk 
softly and the gentle night winds sing to put the 
stream to sleep. It weeps like a tired child. I am 
so glad that Kage is holding me as my father or 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


149 


mother would do. Maybe we shall see them soon. — 
Now I sleep. When I open my eyes Kage is gone 
but I can tell that he has only gone to the stream 
to bathe. He has left the robe over me for the air 
is cool. I lie like a lazy puppy for a while. When I 
see Kage coming I jump up. Kage has an angry 
look on his face. He points to the ashes and says 
words in angry voice. He asks me why I have made 
no fire. At first I am afraid. Then Kage laughs. 
He lifts me up and tosses me high in the air. So I 
laugh, too. I like Kage. I shall try to get him to 
go to my people with me. He says we must eat 
cold meat from his pack and hurry on swift moc- 
casins to the big water. He tells me he has been 
on a high hill looking; that his eyes have seen much. 
I wish to know what he has seen but a little sister 
must wait till an elder brother wishes to talk. So 
I get ready to follow Kage. We start at once to- 
ward the river. Soon we are on the top of the ridge 
that falls down to meet the water. Then I see many 
boats. They are round so I know it is the bull 
boats of my people! I clap my little hands — my 
non -be zhinga. But the people are a long way off. 
They are coming up the stream to land not far 


150 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


below us. I look at Kage. His face wears a troubled 
look. Then my head gets it! He fears his people 
and the Ma-has will meet each other and fight. 
His face is sad. His eyes talk to me. But we let 
our moccasins take the trail toward the big river, 
the Ni-u-ta-che. I follow Kage. A squaw always 
follows. Why are my people crossing the river in 
the bull boats? It is not in this direction that the 
buffalo country lies. Our hunters sometimes cross 
the big water to hunt the elk or the deer for these 
are their hunting grounds, but nobody wants elk 
meat in the summer moons. No, it must be a war 
party. But it is not in my head that our enemies 
live here. I wonder if they found out that Kage’s 
people were here and came over to kill them? My 
heart talks loud to my ribs. When we come close 
to my people I shall walk in front of Kage till I 
tell them all about my journey. I shall not tell 
them that Kage took me first. I shall say, “A 
Yanktonai brave took me.” 

The day is very hot and I see the moccasins of 
Kage go slower and slower. The grass is tall over 
on the hills so it is not easy to go forward. Kites 
circle in the sky above us. The sun blazes down 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


151 


like a big sky camp fire. Maybe Kage is tired. 
Sometimes I think he wishes to stop to rest. I 
cannot let it come into my head that Kage has 
numpa, the fear, in his heart! Prairie chickens 
start up as we step near their nests. They fly away 
with a whirr of wings. Then they settle down and 
laugh at us because we do not look at them. Even 
the ground squirrel laughs at us. Still slower go 
the moccasins of Kage. When we reach a lone oak 
tree that grows on the hillside he motions that we 
must rest. I tell him, I say, “I do not wish to rest. 
I must go forward to meet my people.” Then I 
see that Kage has a story to tell, so I sit down and 
the small, strong, brown hands say, “When I threw 
the robe over thy head it was in the moon of the 
spring rains.” I sit quiet. It is wren chatter to 
tell me what is already in my head ! I look in Kage’s 
good face. Then I ask him, I say: “Did a band of 
thy people attack my people?” And his hands say, 
“Yes.” So I weep for I have fear in my heart 
that my father was killed — that he has been looking 
at me from the white path across the sky. Kage 
knows this so he says, “Weep not, little sister. Thy 
father may yet live. All I know is that my two 


152 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


friends and I went toward the Star-That-Moves- 
Not, alone. The band stayed near the tipis of thy 
people. They had many fights. One moon in the 
time that is past, they came back to the lodge of the 
Yanktonais. There is still much blood in their 
hearts. They are here to make war again. They 
wish to cross the river below here. Last night 
while thou slept I saw strange signal fires on these 
hills so I knew a Ma-ha scout who had long watched 
had found food for his eyes. The fires told the tale 
to thy people. They come with boats.’ ’ Kage has 
told me so much that is already in my little head! 
I think. Then I say, “I can find my people alone. 
We must have no more fighting. Take thy people 
toward where the sun rises. Tell them great bands 
of Ma-has are hiding in the hills on this side of the 
big water!” Then Kage looks at me and laughs. 
After that a look of trouble is in his face. He pats 
me on the head and I lean against him and weep for 
I know that he will leave me. I may never see him 
again. He says words that I do not know but I 
understand his voice. It means, “Be brave. Why 
dost thou weep? Thou and I must save our people 
from more war.” Then he takes up the trail for 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


153 


his own camp and I watch him for a long time. 
His moccasins are not tired now. 

I let the w^ater dry in my eyes. Then I eat a 
few late strawberries that I find still hiding about. 
I know when I get nearer to my people and nearer 
to the river I shall find plums to eat. Some kinds 
will be ripe. My moccasins are light now and I go 
fast toward the big water. I grow careless. I do 
not look for signs as I should do. Suddenly I see a 
brave coming toward me from a hill toward where 
cold comes from. At first my heart stops talking to 
my ribs. Then it says “Thu! thu !” very fast. He 
comes on swift moccasins. He acts in a very strange 
manner. He seems to be stalking game toward- 
the-heat. So I let my eyes walk that way. He is 
after Kage! I must make him see me. I must stop 
him. Now, I know that it is the Ma-ha scout that 
built the signal fires Kage saw in the night. Then 
I see what a noble brave Kage is for he could have 
crept up to the place of the signal fire and killed the 
Ma-ha. But he stayed to care for me! I must save 
him! He is tired from much travel. The Ma-ha has 
only slept and rested long in the tall grass waiting 
for new things to happen. I run forward. I raise 


154 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


my hand. It is Shage Duba! How I hate him! 
He is always telling tales of great deeds he has done. 
He always does these brave deeds where no Ma-ha 
can see him. It is very strange! He stops still. 
He is surprised. All he says is “Wagh!” 

I make the sign, “May I use lip language?” and 
he says, “Ugh!” So I ask where are my father 
and mother. He says he does not know. I ask if 
the Yanktonais killed them. He says he does not 
know! Then he turns to go on to chase Kage. I 
wonder what I shall do? I think fast. “Take me 
to the skin boats,” I say. He motions to Kage. 
Then I say, I tell him, “Thou hast no head! He may 
kill thee! Who will tell the tribe all thou hast 
learned of the enemy?” His moccasins stand still 
for a little time. He thinks. Then he says, “I will 
tell thee.” So I let him tell me all he knows of the 
Yanktonai band. I ask many questions. I take 
up much time. Many times he tells me I have no 
head and then I weep. But even when he has 
finished I see that Kage has not gone far enough 
away. Shage Duba starts on after him. I must 
think fast! So I scratch myself with a rose brier. 
Then I scream and throw myself down. Shage 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


155 


Duba comes back on swift moccasins. I roll and 
moan. He tries to see what has hurt me. I scream 
and roll over. After a time I say, “Stha-thu!” 
(rattlesnake). After much time he finds the place 
where the rose thorn bit me. He sucks the poison 



out. But I pretend that I am very weak. I keep 
him there till the sun has walked far past sun high. 
Then I act so very weak and ill he picks me up and 
takes up the slow trail down to the bull boats. 
Kage will be safe now! 

It is good to my eyes to see my own people again. 
They are dressed for warfare. Ga-hi-ge is the leader. 


156 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


His robe is tied in at the waist and over his breast. 
I see the round pieces of embroidery that show where 
the strings to tie the robe together are sewed on. 
The day is warm and because Shage Duba has now 
told of signs of the enemy, Ga-hi-ge may take the hot 
robe off. He is glad. Nobody likes to wear a heavy 
robe when the day is hot but it is the law that the 
leader of a war party must not untie the strings till 
the scouts tell of signs of the enemy. 

Each warrior has a white covering for his head. 
It is of soft dressed skin. They wear no feathers, 
no ornaments. These things are not for the fight. 
When they really get into the fight they wear only 
the breechcloth and moccasins. Sometimes a brave 
wears his “medicine.”— I like to see the warriors! 
First there are the ones that get game for the war 
party; next I see the ones that carry and mend 
the moccasins. Some women are with them; then 
come the kettle carriers. Some of them are women. 
I see, too, those who make the fires and bring the 
water and carry the other things needed. But best 
of all my eyes like the warriors. Yet my heart is 
sore that there is so much fighting. All the elders 
say it is better to raise corn and melons and squashes 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


157 


and to teach the little ones to be happy. Yet when 
young men grow older they all want to be braves. 
All inside my head is mixed like the turbulent water 
in the river. Our people have many songs, many 
dances and ceremonies that make a youth wish 
to go to fight. Then how can the elders say it is 
better to sit in the lodge and teach the little ones 
to be happy? 

Two moons have come. They have gone. The 
moons left much mystery. My people left behind 
in the lodges must have gone on the summer meat 
hunt. I am sad that I could not go with them, 
but the band on this side of the big water came to 
chase the Yanktonais away so I have had to stay 
with them. There is much hate in my heart for the 
one who was the eyes of the people, for Shage Duba, 
Four Hoofs. Every time I beg to return to the circle 
of tipis he looks at me much; then he tells the war 
leader not to go back. I hate him. Whenever I 
say I wish to learn whether my father and mother 
still live, a laugh comes to the face of Shage Duba. 
Sometime I will kill him. 

The days are still warm and bright but the nights 
are cool now. My people have given me new gar- 


158 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


ments. Some women have come with the war 
party. They mend moccasins and cook the food. 
I help them and they laugh much. We still follow 
the trail toward where the sun rises because Shage 
Duba says the Yanktonais came this way. But the 
scouts see no signs of the enemy. I am glad that 
they have escaped. I do not wish to see dead bodies. 
And the face of Shage Duba is like a war-cloud. 
When anyone says the Yanktonais have escaped, 
I laugh. I never let Shage Duba find me alone. 
He would lift me up by the hair. But I would kick 
and bite. Once I swung a field mouse by its tail. 
It was little. It bit me. For many days I had a 
sore hand. The grandmothers bound it up with 
medicine plants. A little thing can sometimes bite 
hard. Many times I stick out my tongue at Shage 
Duba. 

Ga-hi-ge is the name of the war leader. Four 
times must I put up my hands to tell the number 
of the warriors in this band. The Yanktonais 
must have made my people very angry that they 
would send four times ten warriors after the enemy 
when it is time for the meat hunt. There is much 
fear in my heart because my father is not in the 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


159 


war party. If he sorrowed for me he may have 
put a pair of my moccasins in his belt. That is 
so he could go out alone and kill the enemy that 
he thought had killed me. If his arrow sent the 
man on the white path across the sky, then he 
would place my moccasins beside the cold, dead 
body and to the spirit he would say, “I, Village 
Maker, bid you go with my daughter, my wi-ni'-thi , 
for you have sent her on the spirit trail alone. She 
is afraid. Guard her. Take her to my kindred 
who have gone before.” — But I am not on the 
white path. If my father has done this thing, then 
I may laugh at the ghost of the enemy. But that 
would be because of a bad heart so I will not do 
that. It is in my heart to put a question in the air 
to Moon Hawk woman. I arise early. The sun is 
sending red flowers up into the gray clouds. Ghost 
spit is on the weeds and many spiders spin their 
webs. All the gentle blossoms of early springtime 
have gone. The flowers of the summer moons have 
joined them on the death trail. Now the coarse 
yellow and brown blossoms of the gum weeds stare 
at me from the grass which will soon be brown. 
We have made camp for two sun walks that the 


160 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


scouts may go out to look for signs of the enemy; 
that the women may cook up much nug-the and 
mend the moccasins; that all may rest. The war 
leader sits much alone on the hills. I think he 
makes medicine. There is mystery in the air with 
the smoke-haze of Indian summer. I see the young 
warriors go to bathe. They do not stand straight. 
Their heads are hanging like the heads of ponies 
after a long trail has been followed. I see some of 
the braves throw themselves on the grass and cover 
their faces with their robes. Then I know how 
they feel for my heart has felt this pain many times 
since I was carried away from my dream hills. In 
their hearts is the home-pain. Ga-hi-ge, too, sees 
it. He has seen it for many sun walks. When 
braves get this sickness they cannot fight. If the 
enemy falls upon them they are killed. So after 
all have taken food, the war leader calls some of 
his braves together. I wonder what they talk about? 
I shall soon know but while I wait I shall ask Moon 
Hawk woman why my father is not with us. So I 
ask her. She does not know. When this band 
left, my father and mother still hunted in the hills 
for me. This makes wrinkles come on my forehead. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


161 


It may be they were killed by lurking Yanktonais. 
I weep. But soon I hear glad cries all about me so 
I forget my sorrow. The warriors are to have the 
dance that will give them the strong wolf hearts. 
They sing and dance. The home-pain goes away 
on swift moccasins for the song brings back the 
home camp. In it sit the women. They sing: 

“ Ena! The one I wish for my man has gone to fight. 

“ Ena! The one I hate has not gone forth. He waits here.” 

So the braves are again of big heart. The women 
they love would have the hate-heart for them if 
they came back without fighting the enemy. 

It is the time of the dusk, the face-hidden-in- 
darkness. It grows cool so the ponies kick up 
their heels. They run about much so they are 
hard to catch. I think a cold rain is coming. It 
makes me shiver. It is cold and lonesome when 
it rains. The chief must keep his dance of the 
wolf-heart going if he keeps the young braves from 
wanting to go back where the gardens were left. 
Suddenly on the top of a far hill appears a scout. 
He makes signs. We see him in the last light in 
the sky that comes from the place where the sun 
goes to sleep. Then all the warriors are glad for 


162 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


he makes signs that he has seen the camp of the 
enemy. I cling to the two elder women. There 
is much fear in my heart. But the Moon Hawk 
woman tells me I have the loon heart. She tells 
me of many of my elder brothers now dead at the 
hands of the Yanktonais; of how the wife and little 



daughter of Big Axe were carried away as captives. 
Then I, too, have a big hate-heart for the Yank- 
tonais. I go outside the tipi where Ga-hi-ge and the 
braves are singing the mi'kaci — the wolf-song that 
they may have strong hearts for the fight. I join 
in the singing but old Moon Hawk woman pulls 
me away by the hair. She slaps me and rolls me in 
a robe and holds it tight about me. I spit much 
and claw her hair and try to bite. She and the other 
women laugh much. This makes me very angry 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


163 


like the rattlesnake but they hold me tight. At 
last I get so sleep hungry I forget to struggle. I 
sleep. 

Long before day-lies-pale the men start out so 
when I open my eyes the women and one young 
brave hurry behind to hide in the hills near the 
enemy. We keep out of sight. Often the young 
brave goes to the top of the ridge to cry the trail 
to us. Then a strange thing is there. We all rush 
to the top of the ridge to look. We see a camp. 
It is not the camp of the Yanktonais. It looks like 
a camp of our own people! I cling in fear to the 
older women. They whimper like dogs when there 
is the death mystery in the air; when the whip-poor- 
will calls his name, “ Ha'-kug-thi?” I now know. 
I am only a little child and not a strong brave. 
The young man lets his eyes see all that happens 
as the band goes nearer to the camp. Then he tells 
us to hide and wait till he comes back. Then his 
swift moccasins take up the trail. We all fear to 
look at him. It may be a ghost camp. Until it 
is sun high we huddle on the hillside. We are so 
afraid to move we grow cramped. Our legs ache. 
Then I think of how much I suffered when I was 


164 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


alone on my home trail because I feared a harmless 
little ghost! So I break away from the two women 
and go to the top of the ridge to be a scout for my- 
self. When I see what happens I make signs that 
I go to join the warriors. The women may follow 
or they may stay. I go. 


CHAPTER IX 



OW I will tell you a story of the Bad 
Village. Big Elk told it to us in the 
cold winter moons when we all gathered round the 
camp fire of big logs to listen to the elders. This is 
the story Big Elk told : 

First I will tell you how the lodge looked because 
Big Elk had a very big lodge. He was a good brave. 
Inside his lodge was everything a red man needed. 
His squaws loved Big Elk. They did the best bead 
work and quill work. The winter lodge he had built 
165 


166 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


down in the wooded lands near the river. Cold 
Man could not bite him there. The lodges of his 
sons were near. Some of them were skin tipis; 
others were earth lodges like those of Big Elk. 
But none was so large as this one. 

One time the snow fell for many sun walks. The 
river froze. At night the blast howled outside like 
a pack of hungry timber wolves. Then the ones 
inside cuddled up in their warm robes and were glad 
they had food and a good lodge fire. But the cold 
grew worse so they had to stay in the lodges too 
long so that the young men grew angry at one an- 
other. Then said Big Elk to his herald, “Go, tell 
all my people to come to the lodge of Big Elk when 
darkness falls on the land.” So the herald went out 
and cried it to the people. And they all came. 
The guest that Big Elk wished to honor must sit 
opposite the opening to the lodge. Many couches 
were made of thick robes all folded and placed 
around the big fire place. The small daughter of 
Big Elk swept the ashes back into the fire hole with 
a brush of turkey feathers while the elders talked. 
Many young women came in wearing robes of 
fringed and beaded buckskin. On their backs they 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


167 


carried their zhinga-zhingas each in its u-thu-hu, its 
cradle. All the maids and young men wore their 
best garments and had their faces carefully painted. 
When a maid saw that a 
youth wished to speak the 
language of the eye to her, 
she put her robe over her 
head. Then he would speak 
some more with his eyes. 

On a forked post beside 
the fire hung the cooking 
pot. Beside it was a little 
hole where had been the 
sharp point of the wooden 
bowl in which the corn was 
ground fine enough for 
meal. Wooden bowls and 
drinking cups were all put away in the places be- 
neath the couches, as were the spoons of wood and 
buffalo horn, the willow baskets to hold fruit, the 
hoes made of the shoulder blade of the buffalo, 
the stone axes and other things that the family 
did not use all the time. Snowshoes and saddles 
hung from the posts set about the fire hole. There 



168 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


were rattles made from the gourds and green hide 
rattles hanging from the walls. Flutes made from 
the wing of the eagle and reed flutes with long tassels 
to make them beautiful also hung about. All the 
bead work in the lodge showed much care and that 
happy hearts had taught the hands that did it. 
As the people came in they said many words in 
praise of the family of Big Elk. He sat at the left 
with a huge war club beside him. After all were 
seated a silence fell on the people. The little ones 
moved about but their mothers patted them into 
silence. When all could hear the winds outside 
fighting each other like warriors of the Yanktonais 
and of the Ma-has, the Big Elk looked very sad. He 
had seen many fights and much heart-pain. The 
wails for the dead sat heavily on his heart like a 
stone on the back of a pony. He spoke : 

Away beyond lived a man of the Buffalo Tail 
band of our people, the Ma-has. He was called 
He-ba-zhu, Knobby Horns. He was very happy. 
He and his wife had three sons. When the Great 
Mystery sent them a daughter they were happier 
than before. They had many feasts in their lodge. 
Everyone liked to go there. The two sons were very 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


169 


careful of their little sister. Knobby Horns was 
not a chief but he had much honor in the eyes of the 
people for he many times showed bravery on the 
battlefield ; he gave 
many feasts in his 
lodge. The people 
like a brave who gives 
many feasts. 

The daughter was 
called Little White 
Buffalo. She was 
taught all the things 
a maid should know. 

She was polite and 
never passed in front 
of anyone in the lodge 
without saying, “Te 
ha ” — “ Permit me.” She learned to go for wood and 
water that she might be a good squaw. She could 
skin a buffalo and cut up the meat as well as an old 
grandmother. She knew how to remove the flesh 
from a hide with the we' -ba-zha-be and she could tan 
a hide well. After she did this work she would take 
the soap weed and bathe in the stream. Then she 



Hebazhu 


170 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


would dry herself with the sweet grass or the wild 
sage that she might smell sweet. The smell of fresh 
hides is bad to the nose. 

Whenever she went to be the guest of someone 
she always ate all the food placed before her so the 
giver of the feast would know it was good to her 
mouth. She knew how to make the dyes of all the 
colors and how to color the porcupine quills and 
embroider with them. She made many bead neck- 
laces, lariats of nettle or buffalo hair, hair brushes 
and paint sticks. Her brothers wore the best garters 
and moccasins in all the band. Their leggings were 
so beautiful that all the young braves envied them. 
Whenever the father gave a feast all the young men 
from other bands came. They looked only at Little 
White Buffalo. They knew not what food went 
to their bellies. All they thought of was eye-food. 
When a brave is young that is the way with him. 

Every morning Little White Buffalo rose early 
and went with many of the other maids and some 
grandmother to bathe and to bring water and twigs 
back to the tipis. Sometimes they would meet a 
band of the young men who were coming back from 
the stream. One day Little White Buffalo let her 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


171 


eyes look out from her robe. She saw the eyes of 
Standing Antler. His eyes spoke much to her eyes. 
She covered her face. Then another time in the 
warm summer nights when 
the people danced in a skin 
lodge, Little White Buffalo 
stood outside with other 
maids. The old grand- 
mother who was with them 
was busy looking into the 
lodge to see the dancers. 

She did not see Standing 
Antler creep up quietly and 
make a sign to Little White 
Buffalo. After he made the 
sign he went away. But Little White Buffalo only 
hung her head and wanted to go with him. She 
did not go. 

Once it was spring-time and the young men laughed 
at Standing Antler. He cut a branch from the red 
cedar tree. He rounded it. Then he split it open 
with a stone knife. He made it hollow. Six holes 
he made in one half. Then with glue made by boil- 
ing the hoofs of the buffalo he stuck the parts to- 



Little White Buffalo 


172 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


gether. The young men laughed at him because 
they knew he would play a love call. When the 
grass was as high as the ankle of a zhinga-zhinga , 
then he waited till one morning when the grand- 
mothers were not looking. Then he played the 
flute call. Then Little White Buffalo heard the 
call. It made her heart say “Thu! thu!” to her 
ribs. But the grandmother led her back to the tipi 
and would have beaten her only the father and 
mother of Little White Buffalo would let nobody 
beat their youngest. 

Once when the face-hidden-in-darkness was on 
the land and all the family were gathered inside the 
tipi of the father and mother a badger scratched the 
side of the tipi. But nobody went out. Another 
time they all heard the badger scratch the wall of 
the tipi. “I will go out and kill the badger,” said 
one of the brothers. So he went out. Little White 
Buffalo sat very still and listened very hard. When 
her brother came back he said, “I was wrong. 
There was no badger here.” And on the third night 
the badger scratched. They all laughed and said 
it must be a ghost badger for nobody could find it. 
So when it scratched a fourth time nobody but 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


173 


Little White Buffalo heard it. She rose and went 
outside. She did not make any noise. Nobody 
saw her go. 

One night a tent pole fell somewhere outside. 
The crickets and the night birds were singing so 
nobody but Little White Buffalo heard. She went 
outside. She did not make any noise. This happened 
four times. Nobody else knew anything about it. 
“We will soon make a lodge,” said Standing Antler. 
Then the sun shone very bright. The grass looked 
greener than before. Even the rain was pleasant 
as it fell and ran in little streams all over the land. 
Little White Buffalo had a smile for all the zhinga- 
zhingas. Standing Antler had a helping hand for 
all the little boys who tried to make arrows or 
flutes. All things looked good to Little White 
Buffalo. All things looked good to Standing Antler. 

But one day Great Hair came to the lodge of Little 
White Buffalo. He sat long with her father. He 
said no words. Only his eyes talked much to Little 
White Buffalo. Then the sun did not shine so 
bright. When the sun again walked the land, 
Little White Buffalo saw seven ponies tied in 
front of her father's lodge. She crept out before 


174 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


the others were awake. She cut the nettle lariats 

that bound them. The ponies went home. They 

went back to the lodge of Great 

Hair. Then was there much 

numpa, the fear, in the heart 

of Little White Buffalo. She 

knew that Great Hair would 

think his gift was too small. She 

had seen him look much at her. 

It made her have the hate-heart 

for him. She knew he would pile 
Great Hair . , . . . . 

many robes and much beadwork 

on the backs of the ponies and send them again to 

her father’s lodge. 

She tried to see Standing Antler when the women 
went for water. He was not in sight. He was busy 
for he was thinking of a new lodge. So Little White 
Buffalo said to a maid, “When you see Standing 
Antler, make him a sign that I wish him to come 
here.” The maid laughed. — Now Little White 
Buffalo had no heart friend among the maids. She 
had no need of a heart friend till now. Her brothers 
had been very kind to her. She did not know why 
the maid laughed. The maid said she would tell him. 



THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 175 


Now Standing Antler was very handsome. He 
was tall. His back was broad. He stood up very 
straight. His hair was always neatly braided. 
His paint was always put on well. So the maid 
wanted Standing Antler for her man. So she waited 
till Little White Buffalo could not see her. Then 
her moccasins took her near the camp where Stand- 
ing Antler was at work. He was making an u'he, 
a mortar, from part of a tree-trunk. He had already 
chipped the bottom of it so it could be stuck into 
the ground. He then put coals in the top to burn 
it out. To his other self he said, “I will smooth 
this u'he with sandstone and water. I will make 
it smooth on the inside and on the outside. Little 
White Buffalo shall be proud of all the things I 
make for her lodge.” The maid saw this thought in 
his face so she made a motion. But it did not say 
what Little White Buffalo told her to say. It meant, 
“Little White Buffalo bids me tell you she knows a 
brave who has many u'hes and many ponies.” 
Then the maid hung her head and smiled. But 
Standing Antler did not look at her any more. He 
tried to keep on working but his hands grew clumsy 
like the paws of the grizzly. His heart grew heavy 


176 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


like a big stone. So he went to the river. He sat 
down beside it. He sat there all day. He ate no 
food for his belly was full of sadness. 

At star time he listened to the night winds. They 
spoke of other evenings when Little White Buffalo 
had come out to meet him. Then he said to his 
other self, “I will see if the maid told it straight.” 
So he went to the side of the hill. The big shining 
moon rose from behind it. There it shone on some- 
one hiding in the grass. No words were said, but 
Standing Antler dropped quickly down beside the 
one who hid, for the moon would tell on them if 
they stood up. Their shadows would talk. Then 
he heard Little White Buffalo speak softly, “ Where 
hast thou been all day? I sent for thee early because 
I knew Big Hair would send more gifts.” Then she 
told of how she had cut the nettle lariats. Then 
he felt great pain in the throat. He put his arms 
about her. She put her head on his shoulder. Then 
she said, “It is too late. He has brought more 
ponies. There are many rich gifts on them. When 
the sun walks again some young men will carry me 
to his lodge. My father has promised it. — I heard 
their words.” 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


177 


Now the Wa-kon-dah makes one young man for 
one maid and these two were made the one for the 
other, so ponies and robes meant nothing to them. 
The wish of the Wa-kon-dah is greater than the 
wish of an old brave. So the Little White Buffalo 
and Standing Antler made a plan. When the moon 
hid she went back to the lodge of her father. When 
the day walked the land again all the camp was 
busy because a great wedding feast was to be given 
in the lodge of Big Hair. All the women came to 
help dress Little White Buffalo. She let them paint 
the part in her hair and put on all her beaded gar- 
ments. They carried her to the feast. All the 
people came. They ate much food. They were 
very happy. Even Standing Antler came to the 
feast. He stayed late. Just before the dusk, the 
face-hidden-in-darkness, came on, he went out to 
where he had two swift ponies tied with buffalo 
hair lariats. 

Soon old Big Hair and Little White Buffalo were 
left alone in his lodge. She went near the gourd of 
drinking water. She upset it so all the water was 
gone. She picked it up and ran out to get some more. 
The old warrior waited. He liked a squaw with 


178 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


willing feet. She was young. She was strong like 
a young pony. He thought much about this. He 
folded his old hands. He had not a kind heart. 
He thought that in a few winters they would have 
many zhinga-zhingas that would soon grow to be 
braves like his elder sons. Some of them now had 
lodges and many little ones of their own. — Then 
he thought of how wrinkled and ugly Little White 
Buffalo would grow. But that made him laugh. 
When he laughed it wakened him for he found he 
had fallen asleep. It is hard for an old man to go 
courting. Then he looked around for Little White 
Buffalo. She was not there. He wondered how long 
he had slept. When she did not come back he feared 
some wild animal had caught her. So he went out 
and hunted for her. It was dark so he could not 
see. So he called his relations. They made torches 
and hunted for her but they could not find her. 
All night they hunted. When day walked again, 
the relations again took up the chase. They found 
that Standing Antler was gone. Then they all knew. 
But nobody told the mother of Little White Buffalo. 
She grieved as for the dead. But the father was 
silent. He had taken the ponies. He had not asked 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


179 


Little White Buffalo if she wanted Big Hair for a 
husband. 

For many days the friends of Big Hair kept up 
the search for he had many ponies. He was a rich 
old warrior. 

The two older brothers of Little White Buffalo 
thought as men thought, but the youngest had 
thoughts like those of the little sister. His heart was 
sad. He sat much alone on the hills. He saw the 
scouts of the old warrior go out when the sun came 
up each day. At star time he saw their moccasins 
on the home trail. Each time they came with empty 
hands. Each time the ropes dragged loosely. That 
made him glad. 

One day the sun came up. The grass was green. 
Yellow dandelions looked through it. Dog-tooth 
violets grew in the damp places. New yellow-green 
leaves crept out all along the arms of the willows. 
On the hillside trailed the moccasins of Young Fox. 
He was the heart friend of younger brother. His 
eyes looked for signs. His ears were open to let 
the sounds come in. Away off he heard the mighty 
waters travel. The sunlight fell on the water. 
It made it sparkle. It was like a laugh when braves 


180 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


charge in battle. His eyes did not look. His ears 
did not listen. We close the flap of the tipi to some 
guests. We open it to others. Once he heard the 
chirp and song of birds. They talk much when the 
sun shines on the grass. It makes them of glad heart. 
They are happy. But he tried not to listen to birds. 
It was pleasant to lie down and listen to happy 
noises but he was the scout for his friend who was 
with the father and mother and two brothers while 
they ate their morning food. Suddenly the war 
song of the hoofs of ponies sounded on the trail. He 
stood straight. He listened, then he saw much 
that gave him sorrow. His moccasins went fast as 
the hoofs of the antelope. When he reached the 
lodge of his friend he said in quick voice, “ Elder 
brother, thy daughter is found.” All three men 
stood up. “Go on swift moccasins if ye wish to see 
her before she takes the trail again. The old man 
has stripped all her beautiful garments from her. 
He beats her to death. I still hear her screams in 
my ears!” 

Then said the father to his first born, “Go, my 
son, see if this is true.” And though it is the custom 
to obey yet the first born refused to go. “Go thou,” 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


181 


said the father to the second son, but he only bowed 
his head in shame and stood still. With eyes that 
flashed like thi-um-ba , the lightning, up straight rose 
the youngest brother. He put on his quiver filled 
with arrows. He took his bow and ran quickly to 
the lodge of the old man. All the band was there. 
To the ears of the brother came the screams of Little 
White Buffalo. The youth pushed all aside. He 
did not look to see whom he touched. He did not 
care whether it was a brave or a youth. “Ye are 
cowards! Why do you not save little sister?” He 
rushed to the scene. Blood was flowing from the 
smooth, beautiful brown skin on his sister’s back. 
Great welts were on her arms and on her head. 
The boy loved his sister. He took his best arrow 
from the quiver. He twanged the bow and the wicked 
ghost of Big Hair started on the trail to the land 
of ghosts and shadows. 

At once there was much fighting. The sun went 
behind a cloud. The day was no longer bright. 
Blood rained over the field. The skies had no 
need to send the rain to wet the land. Some of the 
people thought the old warrior was right. They 
joined his family and fought on one side. On the 


182 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


other side fought the friends of Little White Buffalo. 
All day long the fight raged. Then the Wa-kon-dah 
sent the sun to sleep that there might be no more 
fighting. The dusk came on. Many men and 
women lay on the field with ghastly faces and blood- 
matted hair. Those who lived grimly went to 
their lodges but the sleep hunger would not come. 
Though there was no wailing yet many hearts 
mourned in the dark and bloody silence, broken 
only by the wild snorts which came from the fright- 
ened ponies. 

When the sun walked again the followers of Little 
White Buffalo rolled up their robes and tipis. They 
packed their ponies with all the things that are used 
in the lodges. They took the trail toward where 
the-sun-rises. They crossed the big water, the 
Ni-u-ta-che. The land of their fathers knew them 
no more. 

The friends of Big Hair saw this. So they rolled 
up their robes and tipis. They packed their ponies 
with all the things that are used in the lodges. They 
took the trail toward-the-heat. The land of their 
fathers knew them no more. 

There was no wailing on the hills. There were no 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


183 


grave fires. Silently the living departed. The 
dead lay with ghastly faces. On the top of a far 
hill stood a lone coyote. Above him in the big blue 
sky an ugly buzzard flew round in circles. They 
watched till the last of the living had gone from 
sight. At star time a bright moon peeped over a 
hill. What the moon saw made her sad. She went 
back into the sky and hid. — Now even the bones 
left by the coyotes and buzzards are gone. They 
are ground to dust by the feet of many rushing 
herds of buffaloes; by the wind and rain; by the 
snow and the hail pebbles that wipe all evil signs 
from the earth; that make all things live over again 
in happier shape. That is why the wind and rain 
can whisper so many tales to us; it is why they 
talk the language of all the red men. — But the ghosts 
of all the friends of Big Hair still walk over the spot. 
The wazhin',* the spirits of the friends of Little White 
Buffalo, still stay there. An endless ghost fight goes 
on. Many travelers have seen it. Many war 
parties have felt it. Nobody can cover the spirits 
now. You cannot camp on the spot. The old 
warrior's ghost is still there. All the ghosts of the 

* Wa-zhing'. 


184 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


dead wander about. There was no earth put on 
their bodies so their ghosts will always be restless. 
The spot is called Ton'-won-pezhi.* This means Bad 
Village. This is the story Big Elk told. 

All this comes to my little head when I see the 
leaders of our band. They are making signs. They 
seem to use the lip language too. So I run. What 
people are these who can speak the tongue of the 
Ma-has? Who are these that live away beyond the 
Ni-u-ta-che? 

Yes, now I listen. It is true. These people are 
the children of Little White Buffalo and her friends! 
I am glad Big Elk told the story. Tonight there 
will be a big feast around the council fire. There 
will be passed the peace-pipes. I shall learn much. 
I wish first to see Little White Buffalo and Standing 
Antler. Big Elk did not say whether they both 
lived. It may be that the dust of the bones of 
Standing Antler is blowing around the prairie near 
Bad Village yet. 

The two women come up. Tonight we have a 
great feast given to us by our kinsmen. Our leaders 

* Tong'-wong-pezhi. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


185 


will beg that they come back to live with the Ma-has. 
I am sleep hungry. I do not care whether they 
come back or not. As I fall asleep I see Shage 
Duba through the smoke haze. It is in my heart 
to stick my little red tongue out at him, but my head 
tells me, it says: “If you do that he will think of the 
Yanktonais. All the Ma-has have forgotten about 
the enemy because they have found their friends. 
Put thy little tongue away. Let it sleep. In that 
way Kage may escape.” 


CHAPTER X 


/ 



T was “away 

beyond” that all this happened. 
Our people were together again. 


We moved back over the trail to 


the river. We got into the skin boats. It was long 
past the summer moons when we reached the home 
village. Only a few were there, some old men and 
women who were too old to walk far enough to join 
in the buffalo hunt. The grasses and weeds grew in 
all the cracks of the earth lodges. I liked to look at 
them but my heart mourned for my father and 
mother. An old man told me that they had gone 
on the buffalo hunt, so I knew that unless my mother 
or father had died while they were on the trail, my 
eyes should again be glad like the waters of the pools 
when the sun shines on them. 

Now I will tell you: They came back. My father 
186 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


187 


had a big heart and my mother held me in her arms 
and tried to make me again a zhinga-zhinga but I 
said I was a brave. Then the people laughed. I 
played all the tricks I could on Shage Duba. He 
is still a great boaster. 

When the time of falling leaves is past and the 
winter night lodge fires are built, it is in my head 
that he will tell many boasting tales of how brave 
he was when they chased the Yanktonais. 

The winter moons have come. The blasts howl 
through the trees. The trees have no robes now so 
they shiver and toss and moan. After a while Cold 
Man will come and put a robe of snow on them. 
Then they will look beautiful. 

It is warm and comfortable around the lodge 
fires, but every day the men go out and cut holes 
in the ice. Then we must all plunge in the icy 
water. If we do not bathe the Wa-kon-dah will 
send the Sick Man and death among us. Sometimes 
the little ones will not go for two sun walks if it 
is very cold but we must go many times. 

The hunters set traps for the small animals. 
To-night some of us go to the tipi of Moon Hawk 


188 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


woman. She and her man are giving a feast to 
the new kinsmen who have come back with us. 
One of the new girls is my heart friend. Her name 
is like the one Big Elk told about. She cannot be 
the same one because all that happened “away 
beyond/ 7 And she has not seen enough winters 
to have a lodge. It may be that she is the daughter 
of Little White Buffalo. I will not ask her. If she 
wishes to do so, one day she may tell me. 

Moon Hawk woman has been cooking food all 
day for the feast. There will not be many guests 
in her tipi but we shall be of full belly. My father 
and mother have been invited to bring me. My 
little heart friend is to go with her parents. Her 
father's name is Little Wings. The new brothers 
are not quite like us. They have lived apart from 
us for two generations, the old men say. But they 
must learn all our ways for they are still Ma-has. 

I am dressed ready to go. I put on my long 
moccasin leggings. They are very warm. There 
is a pretty beaded garter around each knee. The 
moccasin strings tie at the bottom of each legging. 
There is some very pretty red and green porcupine 
work on each of my little toes. I wear my robe 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


189 


with elk teeth and shells sewed on it. My hair 
is very long and my mother has brushed it with 
the mi-ka'-he made of stiff grass. She put buffalo 
fat on hers but she says I do not need it. My mother 
is getting my father ready, too. She unbraids his 
long hair. He has worn it that way all day, so it 
will wave to-night. My mother is very proud of his 
long hair. Some men cut all but the scalp lock. 
She will not let him cut his long beautiful hair. 
Some days he says he will do it. But he never does. 
She puts the little bone case that holds an eagle 
feather in the scalp lock. It is a mark to show a 
brave deed my father did. Under his robe he wears 
a braid of sweet grass. When my mother puts on 
her best robe we all start to go to the feast. We 
were bidden to come as soon as the sun had gone 
to the underworld. It has been dark and stormy 
all day but we do not care. We have thought all 
day of the feast. Moon Hawk woman knows 
how to cook many things. She likes me better now. 
Before we were together on the other side of the 
water she lived away on the other side of the circle 
of tipis. I did not know her very well. 

Each of us takes up his bowl and starts to the 


190 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


feast. If any food is left in our bowls we must 
bring it home so Moon Hawk woman will know 
we like her cooking. She would never ask us again 
if we left any food untasted. 

We go in. Little Wings is in the seat of honor. 
My eyes speak to the little sister who is his child. 
Her eyes talk back. Just then my eyes see some- 
thing I hate. It is Shage Duba! Our friends like 
him. I do not. — We all sit down quietly to catch 
our breath. We must have time to be composed. 
It is good to have dignity before one speaks. When 
the son of Moon Hawk woman brings his wife into 
the tipi and is seated, we are served with the food. 
In front of her are many kettles filled with much 
good food. The son’s young wife helps Moon Hawk 
woman by passing our filled bowls to us. We do 
not touch the food till the husband of Moon Hawk 
woman lifts a small portion from his bowl and 
drops it into the fire. Then we may eat. That 
was given first to the Wa-kon-dah. 

The new brothers have forgotten to bring their 
dishes but the tipi has enough so they are happy. 
Next time they will know. We eat the good roasted 
shoulder of meat. Moon Hawk woman has roasted 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


191 


the cracked leg bones, too. So she serves us the 
marrow with a brush made from a sprig of wild 
cherry. It has been pounded flat just to serve the 
marrow. Our hostess has flavored the meat with the 
bark of the slippery elm and she has put salt that 
she keeps in a bladder bag on the meat, too. It 
makes it taste good. They got the salt away from 
toward-the-heat beside the salty water creek. 

After we have eaten the meat and marrow our 
bowls are filled with wa'-thske. The wife of Little 
Wings likes it. She asks how it is made. So Moon 
Hawk woman tells her. I know too. It is made 
of pounded corn mixed with honey and buffalo 
marrow. I try to tell but my mother puts her hand 
over my mouth and laughs. But I do not laugh. 
I am angry that I cannot talk. But just as I think 
I want to kick and scream, the hostess holds up 
something that makes me forget all about my anger. 
It is slices of um'-bag-the ! I quickly pass my bowl up. 
I say as do all the others, “ Elder Sister,” as I do so. 
Of course the son says, “My mother” and uses the 
kinship term. My little friend does not know what 
to say so my mother whispers it to her mother. 
Then she says, “Elder Sister” as I do. How good 


192 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


it tastes to my mouth! I eat my slice. Then my 
eyes look hungrily at the pot for more ! My mother 
is ashamed. I have been very naughty to-night. 
I know. The hostess only laughs and cuts me two 
more slices! Soon we are all full of belly. I hear one 
mother tell her little boy not to make faces when he 
eats, not to grunt like an animal. I do not do such 
rude things. I show my new friend how to sit down, 
too. She does not know how. I tell her, I say: 
“ Little Sister, sit thus:” Then I sit sidewise on the 
left. My legs are drawn closely to the right. She 
is so awkward she cannot spring up without touching 
the floor with both hands! She will never get a 
nice brave for a man if she does not learn these 
things! But I do my best. I show her much. It 
is sad that her band has lived so long away from 
us they have forgotten how to be polite! 

While the elders drink ta-be'-hi, we run around. 
After the bowls are all washed we gather quietly 
around the fire to listen to tales. Little Wings tells 
one first. It is new. We have never heard much 
of the lives of our new brothers. We like it. 

Shage Duba now wears an eagle feather that he 
gained for some brave deed while he spied on the 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


193 


Yanktonais. He thinks he is the greatest brave 
in the tribe. I hate him. He thinks he has a great 
head. Finally after he puffs himself out like a 
snake that wants to bite, the husband 
of Moon Hawk woman asks him to tell 
us the tale of the big ghost and the robe. 

I never heard any tale of the big ghost 
and the robe! I prick up my ears like 
a pony that scents water when he has 
long walked a dry trail. Here is the 
tale he tells: 

“ Elder brothers, it is ye to whom I 
speak. My deed is one that the elder brothers would 
not even keep in their heads but to one of so few 
winters it seems much.” 

I wish to stick my tongue out at him but all the 
old men have their eyes fixed on Shage Duba as 
if he were a great brave. I look in his eyes and then 
it is in my head that he does not tell it straight. 
He speaks on : 

“ Ye all remember the days when there was much 
wailing on the hills because of the dead left behind 
by the Yanktonais. The hearts of the women were 
heavy like clouds before the rain comes down. 



194 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


The child of Village Maker was lost. It was in the 
heads of all that the enemy had carried her away 
that she might grow to be a squaw and be the wife 
of a Yanktonai. The pain in the heart of the mother 
was greater than that when a child’s moccasins go 
on the trail across the sky. It was in the heart of 
the mother that the zhinga-zhinga lived. It was in 
the heart of the father that he could see his child 
on the spirit trail. His grief was great. He cut 
off great locks of hair and threw them to the four 
winds. 

“ One day he went to the keeper of the Sacred War 
Pack. ‘ Elder brother, venerable one, I will give 
thee a feast.’ So they ate food in the lodge of Village 
Maker. Again on another day as the keeper of the 
Sacred War Pack sat in front of his tipi with hands 
folded, 1 Elder brother, venerable one/ his ears 
heard, 'I will give thee a feast.’ So it was. And 
this happened a third time and a fourth time. Then 
the keeper knew that the Village Maker wanted 
to go on the war trail against the Yanktonais be- 
cause of the loss of a zhinga-zhinga. So the keeper 
opened the pack. He showed the Village Maker 
his duties. He taught him all the rites to perform 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


195 


when the sun rose; he taught him all the songs to 
sing when the sun went to the underworld. He told 
him how to send out scouts to be the eyes of the 
party; of the signs they should use; of how to attack 
the enemy. The skin bags with medicine to ward 
off evil spirits and enemies were put in one pack. 
This Village Maker gave to one to carry. There 
were ten of us in his party. We were of big heart 
for our leader carried the moccasin of his dead child 
in his belt. We knew he would go till he killed a 
warrior; then he would place the moccasin beside 
the body of the dead vrarrior. He would say, 'Go, 
be the servant of the spirit of my daughter. Lead 
her on the spirit trail till you reach my kinsmen/ 

“ We danced the mi'kagi , the wolf-dance, that our 
hearts might be strong. The Village Maker whis- 
pered to each of us the place where we were to meet. 
We did not want others to join us. That night we 
met under the lone tree that stands on the hill. 
We stole out like the wolves; the pads of our feet 
could not be heard. No one spoke. After a time 
the leader sent four of us to the four winds. 'When 
ye hear the howl of the coyote, come back/ We 
went, each to one of the four winds. We looked. 


196 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


We waited. The moon passed from sight behind 
a bed of clouds. The chill night wind went through 
our bones. We saw no signs of the Yanktonais. 
The time grew long. In my ears still rang the cry 
the women gave, the hawk-bird’s cry that would 
give strength to the band in a fight. Then lone and 
chill across the night-sky came the howl of a sentinel 
coyote. We waited not. With quick moccasins we 
took up the trail and went back to the leader. 

“ For many nights we traveled on. It is not for 
the Shage Duba to say he did brave deeds yet the 
leader selected me to go alone to find traces of the 
enemy. He gave me a cooking pot. It was filled 
with the um'-bag-the , the corn-and-beans. I was to 
be gone two sleeps. He pointed to a far ridge where 
I was to join them if I found news that I could not 
send by signal fire. 

“ Now I was of big heart. Yet I knew I was near 
a ghost camp. I saw ghost spit on the grasses, 
yet I said in my heart, ‘1 fear not.’ On I traveled 
till I was leg weary, till my eyes were sleep hungry. 
I carried no heavy robe for I traveled fast. Once 
just as the face-was-hidden-in-darkness, I stood 
upon a high bluff. All about the great circle my 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


197 


eye moccasins traveled. They saw no sign of the 
enemy. I walked to the little stream at the foot 
of the bluff. Many wild animals lived in the thickets 
near. I saw many tracks. ‘I will make a fire/ 
I said to my cooking pot. So I made a fire. I 
rubbed the two sticks hard. Soon the flames leapt 
toward the Wa-kon-dah. I filled the gourd with 
water. I ate. I slept. When the night grew old 
the animals came. I made the fire leap high like 
a war party. — When the sun walked I killed a rabbit. 
Then my moccasins took the trail to the top of a 
steep bluff where I lay down to wait, to wait for 
signs. The sky was blue. Far off I saw the buffalo 
herds, slowly, slowly moving. The hawk-birds 
gave no war signs. Yet I felt numpa, the fear, in 
my brave heart. My moccasins led me back to my 
camp fire. The sun trailed across the sky. It 
passed sun high. It neared the place where the sun 
goes to the underworld. Again I cooked a rabbit. 
Again I felt numpa , the fear. My moccasins led 
me to the top of a bluff. There it was! A ga-ja-zhe! 
I knew the member of the little people’s band would 
lead me astray. I left the rabbit and cooking pot. 
My good moccasins took me to the tall grasses. 


198 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


Till the face-was-hidden-in-darkness my eyes watched 
the ga-ja-zhe . It was small but its charm was strong. 
Many times my eyes saw nothing. My ears were 
dead. A great black mist hung round me. I 
covered my eyes with my hands. I feared to be- 
come blind. Behind it trailed the magic robe. 
Sometimes it was small, sometimes it grew large as 
the skin of a giant buffalo bull. At times it was 
white. Then most I feared, for no brave can fight 
with the ga-ja-zhe or with ghosts. Then for a time 
I went to the dead. What I saw there ye shall 
know when I speak again. When I returned the 
sun had gone to the underworld. The flames of the 
camp fire were trying to leap to the sky. The 
ga-ja-zhe had grown to a huge form. It stood with 
its great arms upraised. It spoke Ma-ha words to 
put numpa, the fear, into my heart. But I was brave. 
I lay still. I waited. It had four long hairy arms; 
two were like the legs of a white buffalo; two were 
like the human being arms. Its hair was like the 
hair of twenty buffaloes. It had two faces and two 
long ears. Yet I was brave. I lay still. The great 
hair tossed in a sea of night breezes like a lake full 
of poison snakes. Then it crept to the camp fire 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


199 


The night grew cold. Soon I saw huge flames dart 
upward. They grew into strange shapes. It was 



Ghost Robe 


the magic of the ga-ja-zhe. I moved away softly. 
My eyes were blinded. I could not look toward the 
awful shape. Suddenly I felt near me something 


200 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


warm. It was the ghost robe! So the Wa-kon-dah 
put it in my heart for me to carry this away as a 
sign that my medicine was powerful. I rubbed my 
medicine pack and took the robe in my arms. It 
changed from white to brown but still I ran like the 
deer-feet. On a far hill I fell. All my strength was 
gone. I was weak like a willow that has grown too 
fast. The ghost had drawn my strength. I looked 
back and saw in the flame light the shape of the 
ghost looking for its robe. Then I had fear in my 
heart again. But I rubbed the medicine bag and 
the ghost went back to its camp fire. My medicine 
was strong. 

“The false signals made by the ghost sent the 
leader on the wrong trail so it was many days be- 
fore we found each other. The enemy escaped but 
beside me is the ghost robe. I am a brave man. 
Many times in the night the robe turns white yet I 
have no fear. My medicine is strong.” 

Shage Duba folds his arms and looks like a ven- 
erable man! My mother and all the grandmothers 
are holding me down and putting their hands over 
my mouth. I have words to speak! The chiefs and 
the elder brothers have been led away long enough 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


201 


by this crooked talk! I bite but I am carried 
away. 

When we are again in the lodge of my father I 
tell them all about the ghost robe! Then their 
faces are very grave and they tell me that Shage 
Duba is very strong now with the chief ; that I must 
wait till a better time before I tell my story. So I 
wait. I will tell it in the time-to-come! 

My people have changed camp many times. 
The Dakotah people have made our hearts sad. 
The Iowas have tried to pitch their tipis near us 
many times but the wolves from the direction of 
the Star-That-Moves-Not have stolen our ponies 
and some of our women and children. They have 
killed our braves. Many of my people wear long 
hair because of these Dakotah wolves. 

Our village now is called Ton'-won-ton-ga,* Large 
Village. It is made on a stream that winds about 
much. It is so peaceful here I wish to stay. There 
is a big rock near. In it is a hole where the fork- 
tailed kites make their nests. All along the winding 
stream which we call Village Creek are many trees. 
The willow trees weep. The women make baskets of 


Tong'-wong-tong-ga. 


202 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


them. The boys make whistles and flutes from them 
yet they are foolish trees for they weep. They 
droop like young women whose braves have gone 
on the trail across the sky. The oak trees are dif- 
ferent. They stand up like strong old warriors. 
They do not double up when we cut them down. 
They are brave trees. In springtime it is pleasant 
in our village. We move from the lodges to the cool 
skin tipis. The smell of new leaves and fresh grasses 
is in the air. The earth sends up little red plants 
in the damp places. It is so good to be a child when 
the time of new growing things comes! I lie on my 
back on a hill top and see the bunches of white clouds 
float above me in a sky bluer than the lake. The 
soft new grasses at my side all speak to me in tender 
voices. The gentle winds whisper stories carried 
from the north land and from the south land; from 
where cold comes from and from where the heat 
comes from. Sometimes the moon wants to play, 
too, then she creeps faintly into the sky to look down. 
But the sun will not let her come too near. He is 
a big warrior. 

Then I listen. I can hear so many voices! Far 
off are the slow fat buffaloes. Sometimes I hear an 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


203 


angry bull bellowing across the plains. I hear all 
the language of the birds. Then I rise and go to 
the hole in the rock where the fork-tailed kites build 
their nests. The other children are there, too. Some 
of the big boys want to destroy the nests but we beg 
them not to do this. The kites give us much to 
learn about and to look at. They keep our eyes at 
work. We make clay papooses again. But I am 
too old to be a child now. I shall go back to the 
tipi and do the things the women are doing. Many 
girls who have seen no more winters than I have 
seen listen and hang their heads when braves play 
flute calls or sing love songs from the hillsides. 

I am in a rage like that of a wounded buffalo 
bull! My mother laughs at me. The other girls 
poke me in the ribs with their elbows. I strike them. 
Even my father laughs as he unties the pony Shage 
Duba has placed outside our lodge. If he puts any 
more gifts outside our lodge I will go out and spit at 
him. How can Shage Duba sing love songs to me! 
I have ever had the hate-heart for him. It is not 
a funny thing. I do not see why my father and 
mother laugh so much. 

The-moon-when-the-deer-love passed on swift moc- 


204 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


casins this time. We all gathered the hazel nuts 
and it was pleasant to have my mother always 
come near whenever Shage Duba tried to shake the 
nuts out of the tree from which I gathered. There 
is not one of his family that wears a mark of honor. 



He should know I could not have the Great Look 
for him even if I did not have the hate-heart for 
him. Whenever I see him laugh I feel like a bear 
that has slept through the winter moons. It is in my 
heart that he is a mon'-sa* A mon'-sa talks always 
of his own brave deeds. My father says brave deeds 

* Mong'-sa. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 205 


are better told by another than by the one who does 
them. When the winter moons are here I shall tell 
a tale in the lodges. My mother says we may plan 
it. Afterwards we shall laugh. — Now I must forget 
it and let pleasant thoughts come into my head 
tipi. 

The moon shines with a yellow light. It is like 
the yellow corn. It is like the dandelion. It makes 
the rocks look soft like the cotton of the water 
flags. It makes our hearts full of a sad feeling that 
is like happiness. My father and mother wander 
much alone on the hills of yellow light. I know they 
are glad to be together away from the others of the 
band. Once I heard them say they were of big 
heart because I liked their lodge better than that of a 
stranger. Yes, I have lovers. The elder brother 
of Shage Duba looks toward me too. He is not as 
bad as Shage Duba yet he is of that family. But 
he tries to have some honor. He is getting together 
the things that he may be the leader of the hunt 
when again we go for summer meat. A maid might 
let her eye moccasins travel toward him after he 
had led the hunt once. He has a better head than 
has Shage Duba. I saw him counting the things 


206 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


he must take to the Council of the Seven before 
he may ask to be made wa-thon'*j the hunt leader. 
He has the black eagle and the golden eagle. Their 
skins are dry. I have seen the skin of a white swan 
drying in the sunshine beside his tipi. He has many 
buffalo robes. So I know that he is gathering the 
things he must take to the Council of the Seven 
before a leader is chosen for the next meat hunt. 
His sister has helped him. I have watched her 
tanning the hides. From sun-out, through sun-high 
to sun-gone she has labored with the wi' -ba-zha-be . — 
But I do not want any of the family of Shage Duba 
in my tipi. 

The time travels on swift moccasins and the 
moon-when-the-deer-shed-their-antlers is with us. 
Also the younger brothers of Cold Man have be- 
gun to bite us. The ponies run and jump. The 
grasses are all dry. Almost all the robes have gone 
from the trees. They look cold and bare. 

When the rain falls the little ones go out and try 
to play in the wet clay but they soon come in and 
stand around the cooking pots to get their hands 
warm at the blaze. The mothers make them clean 


Wa-thong'. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 207 


their moccasins and sweep the ashes back into the 
fire hole. 

Shage Duba says he wishes to go on a deer hunt. 
He wishes to be leader. He has much honor with 
the elders because of his ghost robe so they let him 
go as the leader. It is not like the buffalo hunt so 
no one cares. They go out to-day. There are many 
braves that go. Little Bear cannot go because his 
squaw is very sick. I have fear in my heart that 
her spirit will soon travel the white path across the 
sky. — The days go on. The squaw of Little Bear 
is weaker each time it is sun-out. All the women 
take broth to her but it puts shame on Little Bear. 
Then he starts out. “I will go. I will be the first 
to cut up an elk. I may then bring home fresh 
meat.” Little Bear says this to my mother. So 
my mother sits all the day walk in the tipi of Little 
Bear while the wa-zhin the spirit of his squaw travels 
on uneasy moccasins from this world to the spirit 
world. Sometimes all day long she stays in the 
spirit world. To-day she has been gone. The snow 
is falling as it is sun-gone. We look on the far-off, 
lonesome, still white hills and we see Little Bear 
returning. In his hands is no meat. He comes 


208 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


nearer. His hands are bloody. Yet he has no 
meat. 

Now it is the law that he who reaches the dead 
elk or deer first and cuts into it shall have the half 
of the meat next to the backbone. So I know it 
was Shage Duba who shot the deer; that he would 
not give Little Bear his share. He is very powerful 
now and his word is stronger than that of Little 
Bear who has had to sit long in his tipi taking care 
of a sick squaw. He has traded all his robes and 
ponies for food; for good things to make his squaw 
happy. It is in my heart that only those two saw 
the meat. Poor Little Bear sits down and folds his 
hands. He is like a wounded animal. Sometimes 
he shuts his teeth hard. Sometimes his eyes look 
like the eyes of a dead fish. The eyes of a dead fish 
always make me cold. They are ghost eyes. 

The squaw of Little Bear calls softly, “Come, 
my man!” He goes inside his tipi. My mother 
whimpers and comes out. Then all the dogs know 
there is the death mystery in the air. They whine 
and rub against us. The air grows warm and the 
soft snow melts away. It leaves the earth black 
and mournful. I see Little Bear stumble out of 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 209 


his tipi. He sits alone in the cold on the far hills. 
He mourns. No sound comes from his lips. No 
water comes from his eyes. The women make his 
squaw ready for the journey. When day again 
walks they will dig a place on a hill top and then her 
body will be placed in it sitting up so she will face 
where the sun rises. Over her they will put willow 
poles. Then they will cover all with the earth. 

It is sun-out again. They have put all the bead 
work and the cooking pots she loved with the body 
of the squaw of Little Bear. Nobody would call 
her name now. By the grave sits her man. He will 
let his hair grow long. He will eat no food. He will 
keep the fire on her grave for four days and for four 
nights. It is very sad. 

The hunters have come back. Nobody knows 
about the meat. I look long at Shage Duba. His 
eyes talk to his moccasins. He is not honest! 

The days go by. All the elders are talking about 
the next buffalo hunt of the summer moons. I think 
it is too early to talk of that. There is time enough 
when the winter is over, and the gardens have been 
made, to talk of that. I do not know why it is but 
the elders seem to fear the buffaloes will soon be no 


210 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


more. But I think the Wa-kon-dah has promised 
the buffaloes to his red children for all the time that 
is to come. The elder men are growing restless like 
captured wolves. They do not show dignity. 

Again it is the moon-when-the-little-black-bears- 



are-born. I am to tell a story when we are all 
gathered around a camp fire at night. I have heard 
the elders say that Shage Duba will be leader of 
the hunt when again the tribe moves. His brother 
went out alone to get a magic buffalo hide that a 
Crow scout told us of. He did not come back. The 
elders think he may have been killed. The magic 
buffalo is white. It is very hard to kill one. 

The night is here. All the elders have been asked 
to hear my story. My father has much honor. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 211 


Yet Shage Duba has many followers. I must tell 
my story. It is in my heart that much belly-famine 
will come to my people if Shage Duba is wa-thon' of 
the hunt. So I will tell all that happened after I 
left Kage. 

***** 

I have spoken. A silence falls on the people. In 
the heads of the elders are the two tales! The one 
told by Shage Duba; the one told by Tun-in-gi-na , 
a woman-child. The two tales are on a battlefield. 
Then Shage Duba rises. He says: “ Elder brothers, 
venerable ones, I appeal to you. The zhinga-zhinga 
that I captured from the Yanktonais does not 
talk straight. In the mouth of the zhinga-zhinga 
are nests of lies. They hatch fast. They have 
many young ones. Elder brothers, I will tell you 
why this is: The zhinga-zhinga has grown older. 
She has a big heart for the enemy, the Yanktonai 
brave. My eyes saw it even in the time-that-is-past. 
My ears heard her sighs. She fell and said a rattle- 
snake bit her, that her brave might escape! The 
elder brothers have good heads. They now know 
why the maid has made the crooked talk to hurt 
one of her kinsmen; to put shame on his lodge.” 


212 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


Then the elder brothers grunt, “Ugh” and then 
my father is asked to speak. I see the knives moving 
uneasily beside the warriors. Numpa , the fear, sits 
in the lodge. It is in my head that my tongue might 
have rested in the mouth tipi. It puts fear in my 
heart that brothers may fight brothers. Yet when 
I think of what Shage Duba said about the snake- 
bite my face gets hot like the hot stones in the med- 
icine bath. It is true yet it makes me angry that he 
knows my heart! I hate him. 

Long the elders and my father talk. They all 
seem to be on the side of Shage Duba. I see my 
mother stiffen up like a she-wolf when somebody 
touches her cubs. Yes, thy cub has been touched, 
0 mother. But thy cub has grown. She is no 
longer a cub that takes milk from a soft, furry side. 
She is a young mother wolf. 

The elders are preparing to go out and leave my 
father in scorn. Quickly as an arrow darts toward 
the heart of a deer a thought comes to my head 
tipi. I rise. I ask, “ Elder brothers, ye have said 
that I did not tell it straight. May I speak?” 
Then the elder brothers say, “ Ugh. She shall speak. 
It is better if we have no strife.” 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 213 


Then I say, “Make Shage Duba bring the ghost 
robe. I will show the holes in it where I dragged 
it by the crooked stick. Ye all know he has never 
unfolded it; that the eyes of none of the tribe have 
ever seen the sacred ghost robe of the great hero , the 
Shage Duba!” Then I make a mark in the earth 
by the fire. I make the shape of the hole in the 
robe. I say, “If the shape of the hole is different 
then I have not told it straight. I will live alone. 
I will go to the lodges of the coyotes.” 

Again the old men grunt. Their eyes ask questions 
of Shage Duba. His face is of the color of the inner 
layer of the corn husk. Yet he knows he must 
speak. 

“Would the elder brothers ask to see the ghost 
robe? The one that was wrapped around the awful 
ga-ja-zhe? I could not put shame on the Wa-kon-dah 
who sent it to me! It would bring famine and sick- 
ness to the tribe to let the eyes of others look at it. — 
I have spoken.” He sits again. My tongue will not 
stay in my mouth. I stick it out at him. I make 
my face very ugly. Then the red comes back into 
his face. All at once it seems that a deer sinew has 
snapped. The elder brothers shake. They laugh 


214 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


and Shage Duba rises angrily to go out into the 
night. My mother sits back softly but my father 
speaks: 

“The robe must be brought to the chief. ” 

So the chief bids the herald go with Shage Duba 
to his lodge and bring the magic robe that all may 
see it. So it is brought. But Shage Duba has a 
smooth tongue. He talks much. His words are 
strong like a stream in early rain-time. After a 
time the chief puts the robe with the sacred pack. 
None may open it. Only the priests may carry it. 
But now I know they all think I tell it straight. 
Yet they feel sorrow for the foolish Shage Duba. 
And they fear a little, too. 

After this all my friends will stand in the firelight 
and laugh and say, “See the snake-hair! Wagh! 
We are giants. See our robes change from white 
to green! See our Two Faces. See our big ears. 
We must get the great hero, the Shage Duba, to 
help us. He is a great warrior! Ena ! ” 

We do this many times till all the people laugh. 
Sometimes we call Shage Duba “Ghost Robe” now. 
But we always run to some elder brother before 
he catches us. I do not want my hair pulled. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


215 


I like to think that in the time-to-come I shall 
find Old Leader and my pack. All the children 
come to me to get me to tell about 
how I escaped. Little White 
Buffalo and I are heart friends. 

The one who ran away with Stand- 
ing Antler was her grandmother. 

We are the story-tellers. We have 
traveled much. All the children 
wish that in the time-to-come we 
may find the Big Voice and his 
four little ones. We could teach them to play The 
Crooked Path. 



i 




And we could play The Litter on winter nights 
when we are warm inside the lodge; or we could pull 
out the straws of the joint grass without breaking 
the pile. 

My little sister says, “ Elder sister, where is Kage, 
the Yanktonai that saved you?” And I say “We 
shall know in the time-to-come. Our mother looked 


216 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


into that time one day in the earth house. She saw 
much that is not for small ears.” 

(If I tell more the little sisters will think they 
have as much inside their head tipis as I have in 
mine. Then they would not do as I tell them to 
do. It is not good to tell too much to little ears.) 

I will tell you: We are to see the people whose 
faces are of the color of the inner layer of the corn 
husk. But a black shadow and wars and much 
wailing come first. 

There is a very, very old grandmother in the 
tribe. She gets angry and hits us with sticks if we 
are rude or lazy or if we do not put the beads on our 
work carefully. But she never hits me. She says 
she will tell me all the long tales about my mother; 
of the brave deed she did to save our people from 
war with the Pawnees. When it is in my ears it 
will sleep there long. Then I will tell you. But 
now I must go to the hill-top to give a prayer of 
thanks to the Great Spirit because we are all happy 
in the camp circle again. My pony rubs his head 
on my shoulder and my little dog licks my hand. 
The good sun shines on all the land. The gardens 
grow and all things are good. 


THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


217 


The soft summer winds pat our bare bodies as 
we play around the stream. The grasses nod and 
speak to us. The leaves laugh and say Ma-ha words. 
The cottonwoods talk most. But the willows weep 



and moan till they make me sad. When they weep 
too much I dry my body with sweet-grass. I put 
on my garments. I leave the stream that is troubled 
by the sobbing willow. There are some good strong 
oaks on the hillside. I take my bead work and sit 
under the oaks. If the oak leaves tell us of trouble 
they tell us how to get out of it. That is better 
than weeping. But the leaves and prairie grasses 
all rustle with happy words now. Squirrels play 


218 THE LITTLE BUFFALO ROBE 


in the oaks. Crickets chirp in the long grass. Grass- 
hoppers jump as we let our moccasins come near. 
I sit on a flat rock under a big oak. Far away rolls 
the river. I see a high hill-top beside it. That puts 
a thought into my head: I have known sorrow, so 
when the sun walks again I shall go to the hill-top 
and “ stand sleeping” as my mother once did. 
After that the Wa-kon-dah will speak to me. He 
will send me a sign. That will be my help always. 
I call it my “ medicine.” I wonder what it will be? 

Now the oak leaves, the wind, and the grasses 
talk. All the sounds of the silence are saying some- 
thing. What is it? Ah! It is “Good-bye.” 

A-ga-geth 



GLOSSARY 


A'bae, when one man or a few men hunt alone. 

A'-ga-geth, Good-bye. 

Big Voices, the Winnebagoes. 

Cat-that-lives-in-the-High-Hills, Rocky Mountain lion. 
Da'-di-ha, My father (addressed). 

Earth House, See Mun-thin'-ti. 

Ga-ja-zhe, fairies, the “little people.” 

Game of “ The Crooked Path,” Follow My Leader. 

Game of “ The Litter,” Cat’s Cradle. 

Ha'-kug-thi? the call of the whip-poor-will. 

He-ba'-zhu, Knobby Horns. 

I'-u-tin (E'-oo-tin), the game of Bowl and Counters. 

Ka'-ge (Kah'-gay), friend. 

Ki-kon'-thi (Ki-kong'-thi), the curlew (It cries its name). 
Ma'-ha, Omaha. 

Me'-tun-in-gi, Light of the New Moon. 

Mi-ka'-he, hair-brush made of stiff grass. 

Mi'-ka-$i, the wolf dance. It makes warriors brave to dance it. 
Mon'-sa (Mong'-sa), a boaster. 

Monx-pi / (Monks-pee / ), clouds. 

Mun-thin'-ti (Earth House), lodge where the people go at times 
for religious rites. 

Ni-u'-ta-che (Muddy Water) , the Missouri. “They Who Come 
Floating Down Dead.” Also called Nishu'-de-ke, Turbid 
Water. 

Non'-zhin-zhon (Nong'-zhing-zhong), to “stand sleeping,” 
— something like being confirmed in church. All the boys 
must take the rite when they are old enough to know what 
221 


222 


GLOSSARY 


sorrow is. The Omahas say, “When their minds have be- 
come white.” Girls may “stand sleeping” if they wish to 
do so. 

Non'-be zhinga (Nong'-be zhinga), little hands. 

Nug'-the, a wild potato. 

Num'-pa, fear. 

On'-pon (Ong'-pong), the Elk. 

Pa '-thin (Pa'-thing), the Pawnees. 

Pit-a-le-shar'-u, a well-known and benevolent Pawnee chief. 
Plant-that-looks-like-tripe , mushroom. 
Roots-that-orphan-boys-eat, artichokes. 

Shage' Duba, Four Hoofs. 

Shu, the prairie chicken. 

Smoke-on-the-earth, the mist. 

Stha-thu', the rattlesnake. 

Ta-be'-hi, “ New Jersey Tea,” made from leaves of Ceanothus 
americanus. 

Te' ha, Permit me. 

The-face-hidden-in-darkness, the dusk. 
The-Star-That-Moves-Not, North Star. 

Thi-um'-ba, the lightning. 

Ti'-hu-kon, the smoke-hole of a tipi. 

Ton'-won-pezhi (Tong'-wong-pezhi), Bad Village. 
Ton'-won-ton-ga (Tong'-wong-tong-ga), Large Village. 
Tun'-in-gi-na, New Moon Girl. 

Two Faces, “Bogie Man,” “Black Man.” 

U'-he, a mortar for pounding corn, etc. 

Um'-bag-the, corn and beans cooked together, cooled, then 
sliced. 

U-thu'-hu, cradle. 

Wa-kon'-dah, Omaha Great Spirit. 

Wash-na, the tenderest portion of the buffalo. 


GLOSSARY 


223 


Wa-thon' (Wa-thong'), leader elected by the Council of Seven 
Chiefs to take charge of the Omahas during the summer 
buffalo hunt. 

Wa'thske, a mixture of pounded corn, buffalo marrow and 
honey. 

Wa-zhin' (Wa-zhing'), the will; the spirit. 

We'-ba-zha-be, tool made from leg bone of elk — used to scrape 
meat from hides. 

Wi-ni'-the, my girl child (spoken of by father). 

Wi-zhun'-ge, my girl child (spoken of by mother). 

Yanktonais, a band of the Dakotas. 

Zhinga-zhinga, a baby, a “ little little.” 





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